


Grind

by DangerRollins



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, M/M, Smut, Unrequited Love, a few fear the walking dead characters in this, carl is in college, negan is a sugar daddy, stripper carl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerRollins/pseuds/DangerRollins
Summary: Carl does what he has to do to get money. He's going to get his education if it kills him because that's what Rick wanted and that's what he's going to get.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't decide what to title this. I suck ass at titles and I didn't want this to be something generic like 'Sugar daddy'. It was gonna be bands, or Lucci (Slang for money), ghost, or worth every dollar (Inspired by Beyonce's song 'Six Inch' because that song fits this story's aesthetic like hell) but I finally decided on the title 'Grind' (Also inspired by 6 Inch) because it's short, simple and sweet and also sexy. WOO.
> 
> This is probably gonna have a few more parts, it definitely won't stop here.

"You want this wad of cash? Earn it."

That's how their 'relationship' started.

Well, no, technically it had started with Negan saying to Carl, "You look like a Disney princess from hell."

Carl, a broke ass college student, had become a stripper in order to make some quick cash. An actual fucking stripper. Carl was determined to get his education, no matter what. He would graduate college if it killed him (And considering how damn shady this club was, it just might--but not a second before he graduated, he'd make sure of that.)

His dad had always told him that he wanted him to be the best person he could be, and that he was so smart already and that he'd be unstoppable with a college degree to go along with it. Rick had always wanted Carl to go to college, and Carl hadn't ever been particularly against it or for it, he didn't care either way, but when Rick had been shot on duty and had gone into a coma, Carl made up his mind right then and there. He'd go to college, make good grades, graduate with honors. He'd get his degree.

Carl had still been in high school when his dad was shot, only had a month left until graduation. He'd wanted his dad to see him walk across that stage, but that was impossible, so, Carl had gotten Michonne, his stepmom, to film it and they'd show it to him later on, whenever he decided he wanted to wake up, which he would.

That was almost two years ago, Carl close to finishing his first year of college. He didn't hate it completely, he knew it would help him eventually, but he didn't love it either. It was just high school, but with less time spent there, more lectures, and more ramen noodles.

Carl figured his dad would've wanted him to move out around the time he went off to whatever college he had plans of going to. Rick had never specifically said that, and Carl was sure that he would've loved to have him around for a while longer after he graduated, but this seemed like the right thing to do. It's how most people did it, anyway.

Michonne had practically begged him to stay, to live with her in their old house, the house that he'd grown up in, the house that they'd welcomed her into after Rick's first wife had died, the house that held so many memories. She didn't wanna be there alone, she couldn't, and she wanted to keep Carl close to her to make sure he's okay at all times. It'd sounded good when she'd offered it, but he couldn't. When his dad woke up, he needed to be proud. He needed to see that Carl had turned into a man. A responsible, well-rounded man.

Michonne had moved out when he did, going to stay with her best friend Andrea for a while, because she refused to stay in that house by herself and even if she wanted to, Carl wouldn't have let her. She would go crazy in there. The sadness, the pain, it'd take over her. He wouldn't lose another one of his parents. He couldn't.

She offered to pay the bills at their old house, knowing that if--When Rick woke up, he'd want his home to still be there. Selling the house...They just couldn't do it. It wouldn't be right. Carl had refused to let her pay the bills for the place where they wouldn't even be staying anymore, not for now. She'd been out of work for a while, taking care of Judith while Rick went to work, and she'd grown accustomed to that. She'd been willing to find a job again, but it would've been tough for her to leave Judy like that, and tough on Judith as well. Carl wouldn't have it.

Somehow, he'd managed to convince her that he'd found an amazing internship for some amazing company and they paid him well--$2000 a month. How she'd fallen for the lie was beyond him. Maybe she didn't and just chose to be selfish, as she deserved to be, and take him up on his offer. Maybe she'd just been so grief-stricken that she hadn't noticed how convenient and how unlikely his lie was. He **had** talked to her late at night after she'd been drinking and wallowing in sorrow, so, maybe she just didn't catch on. Either way, it was a lie that she'd fallen for.

There was no internship and no company, and most importantly, no money. He hadn't had a job when he'd told her that, hadn't even sent in any applications. He just didn't want her to worry.

He had bills to pay. He'd just bought himself a small house, using a loan from the bank that he somehow managed to get. That meant he had two houses to pay for, and college loans and tuition that he didn't wanna get behind on. Rick had been saving for Carl's college for his entire life, but all those savings had been spent and were currently being spent, on Rick's hospital bills.

Carl had tried to get a normal job for a good month, but he couldn't wait anymore. That month had put him behind on bills, and there were only three options that he could really think of. Drug dealing, prostitution, or becoming a stripper.

Stripper it was.

He didn't hate it or love it, as usual, he was somewhere in between, not really caring enough about anything to be able to form an actual opinion of it. The money was good, it paid all the bills that he needed to pay and he sometimes he had a bit to spare, which he put into his savings--Well, Judith's savings. He wanted her to have money when she grew up, whether she wanted to go to college or just travel, or if she found herself in a predicament like his own. He didn't ever want her to have to strip. Didn't want her to ever even have to consider it.

People could get a little crazy, a little too grabby, but usually, that was handled quickly. The place was shady, in a not so great part of town, but he knew how to defend himself. Having this kind of job kept him in pretty good shape too, so he couldn't complain about that.

He didn't like how objectified he felt all the time, even when he was off work and at home, or walking through town. He was always afraid he'd run into somebody who'd been to the club, that somehow the news that he was stripping would get back to Michonne or Judith or any of their family friends. He was almost sure that Daryl knew, actually, considering he'd seen the man two times since becoming a stripper and he'd earned a slightly sympathetic look from the man both times. It was new, not the same one he'd been giving him because of Rick's coma. Maybe Carl had just been being paranoid, but that didn't seem likely.

When he was at home, sitting on his couch, recounting his money and sometimes smoking a blunt given to him by one of the other strippers, he'd think back to how he got the money and he'd have to stop himself from getting sick. Dancing around in nothing but bedazzled underwear, smiling largely as he shoved his crotch into some stranger's face and did splits for them and jumped around kissing his other coworkers for them--Kisses were meant to be between two people who loved or even just liked each other, but here he was kissing people he barely knew the names of, not in private, but in front of an eager audience--and sliding down a pole, acting like he enjoyed it for them. Allowing them to pull him into their laps and run their tongues along his neck and slide their hands down his sides. Allowing them to yank on his hair and whisper filthy things in his ear as they jutted their hips up and pressed their erections up against him.

Usually, at that point, he'd realize he was thinking too much. He'd wipe his tears, sniffle, take another large hit, and get back to counting his money. That's all that mattered anyway. The money.

He'd been a stripper for a good four months before he'd met Negan. 

It'd been a pretty normal night, though slightly slower, and Carl was starting to get frustrated. He hadn't been making as much as he usually did for a good two weeks now, and it was making him wonder if he was still as good as he was when he first started or if people were just getting tired of him. Maybe now they were used to him. It happens. A new stripper is hired seemingly every month, and they're hot shit until they're not. Fresh meat always makes the most money.

It had almost been time for his shift to end, he'd only had an hour and some minutes left, when he noticed a guy pushing his way to the front. The guy was wearing a leather jacket, despite it being a warm Summer night, and Carl thought it was odd, but he didn't think of it much. The guy was attractive, but so were a lot of the other customers, though most could only be described as greasy old men.

Carl continued dancing, half into it and half not. He made sure to be as sexy as he possibly could, to make eye contact with certain customers who had particularly large looking wallets, to go through all the usual motions. He'd been dancing for a good ten minutes after the man had come to sit in the front when he'd suddenly ushered Carl over to him.

Carl had swung around the pole for good measure before strutting over the man and kneeling before him, bringing his own face closer to his and sending him a small smirk. "Yes?"

"You look like a Disney princess from hell." Negan grinned as he gestured toward the boy's eye, which had a bandage on it. Carl rolled his eye, but didn't let his smile falter. "What in the shit happened to it?"

"It's fine, I just had pink eye a few weeks ago and I had to wrap it up because pink eye isn't an attractive look on a stripper." He yelled over the music, already getting to his feet. Sitting around talking to sexy strangers wouldn't make him any money. "People thought it was a cool look, so, I kept it."

Negan, noticing Carl trying to go back to doing what he was doing, held a hand up to stop and reached into his jacket pocket. Carl's eyes widened as he noticed what was in the man's hand. "You're pretty." negan complimented. "You stand out from the rest of these assholes. I want you. You want money. I'm not willing to throw any of this onto that stage because I know you guys have to split it. All this money--It's for you. It can be for you. If you do something for me. You want this wad of cash? Earn it."

Carl nods, mouth nearly watering at the fat wad of cash in front of him. It looked like it'd be enough to pay off all of his college tuitions at once. Whatever he had to do for it, he'd do it. He was hoping he wouldn't have to fuck anyone for cash, but if that's what he had to do...Well, there were less attractive people to do it with. "You better not be fucking around here." Carl warned the stranger, narrowing his eye. This seemed too good to be true. "I get off in an hour. Meet me around the corner, in front of the bar across the street."

***

"I must fucking say, you're good at your job." Negan grinned, gesturing down to his erection. Carl sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his dad. Seemed silly--disrespectful, even--to think of his dad and ask him to give him the strength to continue going on before doing something so...Dirty.

Carl dropped to his knees and started fumbling with Negan's belt, tears filling his eyes as his heart thudded so loudly that he could hear it. He barely heard what Negan was saying and registered the feeling of the man's hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. "Jesus, kid, hey!" Negan tried and succeeded at finally catching the boy's attention, his blue eyes meeting Negan's hazel ones. "You don't even know my name."

"Does that matter?" Carl looked and sounded as frustrated as he was.

Negan nodded. "Matters a fucking lot, actually. Look, I'd love to have those pretty little lips of yours wrapped around my dick--Boy! Is that a sight I'd loved to see--But, that's not what I'm offering you the money for."

"What do you want?" Carl questions, confusion lacing his voice. Negan steps back and gestures for him to stand up, which he does, mighty quickly. "I'd rather talk about it someplace more...I don't know...Not in the street?"

"Where?"

"My house maybe--"

"No." Carl shakes his head. "If you're trying to yank my chain, if you're trying to fucking kill me--"

"If I wanted to kill you I would not do that shit in my nice ass house." Negan chuckles. "You're smart. You should be on guard, you should be scared, but I promise, I don't have any plans to kill you. I just want to sit down and talk. If you wanna do that in a coffee shop or some shit, I'd be good with that too, but good luck finding one open at this time of night."

Carl sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. "Your house it is."

***

Negan hadn't been lying when he said he had a nice ass house. It was two stories, had a pool in the backyard that Carl had seen while they'd been driving into the front, and was filled with expensive looking furniture and art pieces. Carl was shocked, only because he hadn't known there'd been such an extravagant looking part of King County.

Negan had poured them both a glass of wine and had downed his while Carl only glanced at his. He wasn't there for a beverage, especially not one that'd make him tipsy. He was there for the wad of cash he'd been offered.

"I'm gonna cut to the fucking chase here, kid. I'm a sugar daddy."

Carl had let out a loud snort, but the guy wasn't laughing. "Sorry." He muttered.

"I want company. I'm a lonely bastard. No kids, no wife..." He let out a long sigh as he said that and it was already clear to Carl why he was doing this. "How long ago did you lose her?" He questioned softly. Negan shrugged. "Three years ago. Had two sugar babies since. They both sucked ass."

"Right." Carl muttered.

"I'm a hard guy to be with. Took me a long ass time to find Lucille, I don't imagine I'll find love again. Don't think I want to. But humans go insane when they don't have other people to interact with so, here we are."

"I've never been a sugar baby, I don't what they do."

"We'll get to that later." Negan waved him off. "You're probably wondering why I chose you. Why I singled you out instead of some other stripper. There are several reasons for that. Number 1 being I know why you're a stripper. At least, I think I do. You're there for a reason, not just to get validation from ugly old guys, not even just to get money. You're there cause you have to be." Carl waits so see where the guy is going with this and is shocked when he says what he says next, but he doesn't show it. "I still visit the hospital sometimes. Lucille was fucking miserable there and misery loves company. Literally, she wanted company all the time. I couldn't be with her all the time, but there were people that volunteered to come and sit around with her and other patients for a while. I'm still thankful to them. When she passed...I started doing that too. Felt weird not being in the hospital even though I hated it more than anything, and I had to find an excuse to be there. Can't just hang around, taking up space, you know? So, I decided to spend time with some of the patients. I still do it to this day. I saw you one day. Crying your little eyes out after you came out of a room I was passing by, looking absolutely miserable. It was a few months ago. You caught my attention. Like I said, you're pretty." He shrugged his shoulders. "Then, I was talking to one of my sleazy fucking friends and he suggested that I visit the strip club. I did, and I saw you, looking just as miserable there if not even more, just without the tears this time. That was a few weeks ago, and now...Well, here we are."

Carl sat there for a moment, silently thinking over what the man had said. It was an odd situation, that's all he knew to think. Negan, figuring the boy was at a loss for words, continued talking. "I'm Negan by the way."

"Carl Grimes."

"Great to meet you, Carl. So, anyways, I find you interesting and I'm obviously attracted to you. You work in a strip club and I'm sure you're not 21, but you can't be under 18. You're younger than my other sugar babies were, but that's okay. We're all fucking sinners, this isn't that bad. In case you're wondering, no, I don't want you for sex. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. This is strictly consensual. You don't wanna fuck me? Don't. You don't wanna kiss me, hug me, touch me at all? Don't. Let me know if I make you uncomfortable. I do that to people a lot." He grinned. "All I want is a person to spend time with. Your presence is good enough for me. If you ever wanna do any of that stuff, I'm all good with it. I only ask that you don't fall in love." Negan winks, half joking, but not really. He can't have that shit. "You're probably thinking there is something insanely wrong with me, that I'm crazy or dangerous. I am. There's a lot wrong with me. All I can do is promise to not kill you, to be honest with you and to not intentionally hurt you, unless, of course, you want it. I'll tell you all about being a sugar baby, how it works. If you agree to be mine, you can have this."

Negan pushes the cash toward Carl and Carl backs away like he's afraid it'll bite him. "You kidding me? All I have to do is agree?" Carl questioned. Negan nodded. "Yeah. I know you hate your job. You can quit it if you agree to be mine. I'll take care of you...But listen kid--I know this probably sounds like a really fucking good deal, and trust me, it is, but you need to actually think about it and be sure it's what you want. So, everything I'm about to say, I want you to listen closely, okay?"

Carl nods and leans forward, ready to listen.

***

Carl grins proudly at his laptop screen, having paid this month's bills without making a dent in his bank account. He's also put close to a thousand into Judith's savings, and he feels really fucking good about that.

He'd accepted Negan's offer, of course, he had. Negan would take care of him, and in return, Carl would spend time with the man. It was simple enough, and Carl couldn't say he hated it. Actually, he really liked it. The more time he spent with the older man the guiltier he felt for taking his money. He'd gladly hang out with Negan for free, and he'd told him that, though it was probably stupid for him to do that. Negan had waved him off, telling him that he had a lot of money and no good use for it, and he didn't mind paying Carl to lounge around with him.

Negan, Carl had found, was quite honest. The first night they'd spoken, Negan had admitted to Carl that he'd struggled with a drug addiction while he was in his late teens, and had become an alcoholic when he was in his thirties. He'd been in and out of jail for committing petty crimes, and he blamed it all on himself and who he was, but Carl blamed it on his upbringing. From what Negan had mentioned, it'd been rough. His dad had been in and out of his life constantly, always bringing bad habits back with him when he returned, and his mom hadn't paid him much attention, too busy chasing after guys. Negan could blame himself for how he turned out all he wanted to, but Carl would blame his parents.

He'd opened up to Carl, telling him more than Carl had expected, and he'd done it because he wanted Carl to know what he was getting himself into. Wanted the young boy to know that he had baggage. Carl loved the honesty, and it encouraged him to be honest as well. Talking to someone about how he was feeling and what he'd been through, it wasn't something he'd done much. He'd pushed Michonne away when she tried talking about their situation with him, unless, of course, she was doing it for her own good, because she needed to get it off her chest. If she was doing it because she wanted to know what was going on in his head, though, he'd shut that shit down quicker than she could form a coherent sentence.

Judith, he always checked on her, made sure she was doing okay and made sure that she knew that any time she felt sad, or angry, or anything else, she could talk to him about it. He made sure that she knew that it was okay to talk about her feelings, that it was okay to need other people, that it was okay to need someone to listen...He was a hypocrite, not following his own advice, but he could deal with that as long as **one** of them knew how to keep their feelings from bubbling up inside of them and taking over them. And she did. Sometimes she'd call him in the middle of the night, crying and repeating over and over how much she missed their dad, and him for that matter because he lived a little over a thirty-minute drive away.He'd stay on the phone with her for however long it took for her to fall asleep, and he'd stay up even after she fell asleep just in case she woke up and needed him again, and he was determined to be there if she did. Then, the next day, he'd drive to visit her and Michonne, and they'd spend the day together, some days spent crying--Mostly Michonne and Judith while Carl hugged them both and tried to pretend that everything would be okay--Some days spent having fun with one another, shopping, going out to eat, or visiting a park, or whatever Michonne and Judith wanted to do.

The only person Carl really ever spoke to about his feelings, though, was his dad. Whether he heard or not, he didn't know, but he spoke to him every time he went to visit. The man wasn't making any progress and the doctors had told them several times that they were wasting their time and money, and that they should just let him go. Carl wouldn't have that. He'd rather Rick finally stop breathing. If he took his final breath, at least Carl would know. He'd realize that he was gone for good and maybe even one day, somehow accept it. If they took him off of life support, if they made that decision instead of letting him decide on his own...They couldn't rip that chance away from him.

Rick would be on life support until the day Carl died, if he had anything to do with it.

"You just need to wake the hell up or take your final breath, dad. It's on you to decide. You've been in charge of everything all your life, you can't possibly be expecting me to make **this** decision for you." Carl had jokingly told his dad. "I won't. You'll be on this bed until I die, I swear. Until I die or until you do. Or, you could just wake up. That's the simple thing to do, you know? The easiest thing for everyone...Except maybe you." He'd drifted off for a while before letting out a sigh. "You've never been simple. Never done the easy thing." He muttered. "Maybe you will this time...Look, if you want to--Need to--let go, you do that. You go ahead. If you can't fight anymore, If you just can't keep..." He sucked in a sharp breath before shaking his head and wiping his tears with the hand that wasn't clinging to Rick's. "Just don't give up without trying, dad. You have to fight, you have to at least try. Just don't give up without a fight."

He'd told Negan about everything. About how his parents had gone through a terrible divorce, about how his mother had cheated on his dad with his best friend, about how Lori had died after giving birth to his sister, about how Shane had gone crazy and shot Rick while they were on duty...He spilled his guts. He shocked even himself with it, but he didn't regret it.

Now five months later, things were better for him. He'd been able to quit his shitty ass job which meant he had more time to study and more time to just be a college student, sometimes going to the movie theater, sometimes hanging out with the few friends he managed to make, and a lot of the time, spending time with Negan.

They got along well, though Carl always put Negan in his place when he was being an asshole and Negan sent him empty threats because of it. Negan bought Carl whatever he needed and whatever he wanted, spoiling him rotten just because he could. They spent so much time with one another, growing closer and closer as the days went by.

Carl now had fewer problems to worry about, but there were still problems nonetheless. One of the newer ones being that he was pretty sure he was falling in love with a guy old enough to be his dad, if not his granddad. The very same guy who'd told him not to fall in love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Judy visit the hospital.

"I used to think you were a big ole lump of nothing whenever you fell asleep on the couch after a long day at work and I couldn't get you up for anything. I was wrong. **Now** you're a big ole lump of nothing. Literally."

*

"How's daddy?" Judith questioned as soon as he picked up the phone. Carl smiled a little before shaking his head. Of course, she was calling him at 1AM to ask him that. "He's the same, Jud."

"Good."

She didn't want him to change. She was scared of him getting worse, or dying. She was even afraid of him waking up, although she did want him to eventually. She was afraid that he wouldn't remember her, or Carl or Michonne or anyone. Carl understood it, but he didn't have time to be afraid.

"We'll visit him tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Judith sighed. "Sorry for calling this late. I should probably stop that."

"It's okay, I was up anyway. You should get some rest though."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll come early so we can spend the day with him. Goodnight, Judy."

"Night, Bubby."

Judith had a few weird habits, one of them being that she only seemed to call late at night. Carl didn't mind it, as long as she was calling him. She probably only called so late because that's when she thought about their dad the most. During the day she could distract herself with other people and other activities. At night, she was all alone with her thoughts. Carl could relate to that. Or, he used to.

"Sorry about that." He muttered before turning to face Negan again.

"It's okay. She's just worried about him." Negan mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed every few seconds. Negan lazily stretched his arm out, wrapping it around Carl's waist and scooting the young boy closer to him before burying his face in his neck. Carl chuckled as Negan's warm breath tickled his neck and then the feeling of teeth softly nibbling on him made him suck in a sharp breath. "Wanna just go to bed?" Carl whispered. Negan shook his head. "Of course I fucking don't."

Carl shrugged his shoulders before unwrapping Negan's arm from around his waist and then moving to straddle the older man. Negan groaned as Carl sat right on his already semi-hard cock. Negan's hands found their way to the younger boy's sides, just as they usually did, and he stared up at the beautiful boy on top of him, sending him a sly grin. "I thought you were too tired?"

"Shut the hell up."

So, Negan shut the hell up.

Carl lined himself up with Negan's cock and Negan watched, fascinated, his grip on Carl's hips tightening as Carl slid down and let out a low moan. He hissed a little when he'd slid all the way down, still not used to how big Negan was despite the fact that they'd been having sex for over a month now. "Take your time, princess." Negan teased, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Carl shushed him again before slowly moving his hips from side to side. When it didn't hurt so much to move, he moved himself up and down on Negan's cock, loving how the man responded to him. Negan wasn't quiet unless he was asleep or he had his mouth full, sex was no different. The man cursed and moaned loudly, unashamed of how vulgar he sounded, and it made Carl speed up his movements.

By now, Carl had a good idea of what Negan liked and what he didn't—Not that there was much that he didn't—and he was proud to know that he could make the man cum relatively easily now.

Carl had been the one to initiate the sex the very first time they'd done it. Negan barely touched him without his permission. Carl always had to tell him what he wanted—If he wanted to cuddle, if he wanted to kiss, if he wanted to just hold hands, he had to be the one to initiate it or he had to tell Negan that he wanted it because otherwise, Negan wouldn't. At first, Carl had thought it was because he just didn't want to, but Negan had quickly made it clear that he did it out of respect. He didn't want to scare Carl away or make him uncomfortable, ever.

Carl had been having a particularly bad day the first time they did it. He'd had a long day, working on all kinds of assignments that he honestly couldn't give twenty thousand shits less about and then going to visit his dad, who, as usual, hadn't made any fucking progress and for some reason that had made him incredibly angry. Usually, he could deal with it, but that day he just couldn't. He told himself it was just because he was stressed out because of school, because he felt powerless in the situation, unable to help his dad or any of his family for that matter, because he just wanted Rick to be okay again. He knew deep down that those weren't the reasons why he was so mad.

He'd been happy that day.

Even while working through all those bullshit assignments, even while he'd been in the hospital sitting by Rick's bedside, he'd been happy. He hadn't cried as much as he usually did when he went to visit Rick and he hadn't felt so...Heavy. Or empty. Whichever it was on whichever day it was. He'd felt happy.

It was because of Negan.

The man had come into his life and sucked most of the sadness out of him. Carl had so much fun with Negan, he loved spending time with the man. Negan made him laugh, made him let loose and have fun, took away a whole shit ton of stress, didn't allow him to shut down and pretend that everything was all okay when it wasn't. Negan brought him a helluva lot of happiness and he'd been okay with that at first, he'd thought that maybe he deserved it, but then he visited his dad, his dad who was still trapped inside his own body, who was still in a coma, unable to just get up, his dad who'd probably never wake up again, if Carl was being fucking honest. Then he thought about it. Why did he deserve to be happy when his dad was still stuck in a hospital bed, rotting away from the inside out? Why should he accept change like this? Going from being miserable every single day, as he should be, to being happy? That wasn't right. His dad wasn't happy, he couldn't be.

He'd gone to Negan's house and told him that they needed to stop this, that they needed to let go of their little arrangement, that he'd give him back all of his money and everything else he'd gotten for him. Negan wouldn't let go that easily. He'd gotten used to Carl and he didn't want the little shit to go, especially when it was so sudden. He figured Carl wasn't in his right mind, so, he'd forced Carl to tell him why he was suddenly eager to get away and Carl had spilled.

Negan had spent hours comforting the boy, reassuring him that it was okay to be happy, that his dad would want it, and that Rick wouldn't wanna wake up to a depressed son. Carl needed to get better, to work on himself and make sure that he was still the same boy that Rick knew before his coma.

Carl couldn't think of any way better to pay Negan back for all that he'd done for him than to fuck him. Negan had refused at first, not wanting Carl to feel like he had to, but Carl had wanted it pretty fucking badly and he made sure that was known.

So, they'd had sex. Slow, passionate sex. It was good. Carl had only ever done it once before, and it hadn't been the best. It was sloppy because neither he or the person he did it with knew what they were doing, and truthfully, Carl hadn't been fully into it. With Negan, it was different. It was good. It was great!

"You are so good for me." Negan breathed as he brought one of his hands down to stroke Carl's cock. "You look so good, bouncing on my dick like there's no fucking tomorrow. So good!"

Carl moaned as he leaned forward to bury his face in Negan's neck. He loved nights like tonight. Nights where he felt light and lazy, nights where he and Negan took their time with one another, explored one another. Nights where he could just fuck all his problems out. Those nights were happening more and more frequently and he loved them more and more as time went by.

'Love'

Maybe he shouldn't use that word so much when referring to Negan and things he did with Negan. It was a word Negan had clearly tried to steer clear from. Turns out, his last sugar babies didn't 'Suck ass' They'd just ended up falling in love with him so they gave him the boot. Negan had admitted it when he was piss drunk after drinking almost an entire bottle of vodka on a rough night. Carl wasn't sure if he remembered admitting it or not, but he was sure glad he had.

It isn't like Carl had any intentions of admitting his feelings for Negan anyway, but every time he thought about it for even just a second, he reminded himself that it wouldn't go well. They wouldn't become boyfriends, they wouldn't live happily ever after, he'd just ruin whatever relationship it was that they currently had and simultaneously fuck up the deal that had his bank account full.

He hated to think like that, but it was the truth. There seemed to be very few ways for him to make Negan wanna stop being his sugar daddy, but admitting his love for him was certainly one of them. Therefore, he would not be doing that anytime soon. Negan's money was helping him immensely. It was either this or back to stripping. He wasn't gonna fuck this up, especially not over some feelings.

When it came down to it, he saw it like this; It's either money or feelings. Money or love. Which is more important?

Given the circumstances, money was a hell of a lot more important.

Maybe it could be considered shallow that he felt like that, but he could deal with that. As long as his pockets were full, he could deal with anything.

"You're quiet tonight." Negan had stopped his movements and Carl had as well, though he hadn't realized it until Negan's voice brought him back from his thoughts. "You look like you were thinking. Something wrong, baby?"

Carl blushed, still not quite used to the pet name, before shaking his head. "No, I'm fine, Just--I'm just tired." He shrugged a little. "Can't see myself getting off tonight. How about I blow you and then we call it a night?"

"You sure? I don't like when you don't enjoy too." Negan frowned. Carl grinned before kissing his forehead and then climbing off of him. "Just cause I'm not getting off doesn't mean I'm not enjoying. In fact, I find it quite enjoyable to have your dick in my mouth."

"Well, shit, go ahead then."

***

"I made him another painting." Judith grinned, crawling into the backseat of Carl's beat up truck. "Hello to you too, Jud." Carl rolled his eyes before reaching back to ruffle her hair. "You never make me paintings."

"They take a long time to do. I have a life, you know?" She joked. "Maybe I'll make one for your birthday though. Mostly just because I don't feel like finding you an actual gift."

"Thanks a lot." He scoffed. "I'm sure I'll love it."

Judith had loved to paint ever since she was a toddler, and she always made Rick paintings which he always hung up around the house. Since he'd entered his coma, Judith had continued painting, saving every one she made and trying to make them all as perfect as she possibly could. When their dad woke up, she'd show him all the paintings, in order, to show how much progress she'd made over the years. He'd only been in a coma for a little over two years, but her work had already improved a lot.

The drive to the hospital was a short one, thank goodness for that.Judith was exceptionally quiet, refusing to talk to Carl about anything important until they got to Rick's hospital room because she knew whatever she'd say to him she'd have to also tell Rick and she wasn't willing to repeat herself. Carl accepted it, and they rode in silence.

When they finally got to the hospital and into Rick's room, she was all mouth.

"So, at school today, I made an 'A' on my math quiz and on my science one, and I got a 'B' on my history paper. I've got a presentation to do next week for history too, I've gotta talk about WWII. I'm not excited for it." She rolled her eyes. "I'd rather talk about the most interesting war in the world, The Battle of Dunkirk."

"That's British history, not American history." Carl smirked. She let out a long sigh and nodded. "Yeah, so, I'm stuck doing my presentation on boring old WWII, BUT it's okay. I'll find a way to make it interesting. I've still got an 'A' in art--"

"Of course, you do."

"Shut up, Carl." She laughed.

She kept talking about school for a good thirty minutes, and Carl smiled and nodded along, listening closely to what she had to say. She'd never hated school like most kids did, she'd always enjoyed learning, although she did complain about it here and there. She managed to keep pretty good grades. It was odd for Carl to think about the fact that his little sister, the little girl who'd just been learning to crawl and walk what only seemed like a day or two ago, was now in the sixth grade. She was growing up faster than he would've liked her to. That was especially clear when she started talking about her 'Boyfriend'

"Excuse me?" He cut her off as soon as she mentioned him. She giggled shyly, suddenly growing quiet as she realized what she'd said. "What do you mean boyfriend? Who's your boyfriend? When did you get a boyfriend?"

"His name is Luke and he's super nice. You'd like him, Carl!"

"I doubt that."

"He asked me to go to the movies with him this Saturday. I don't know if I will..."

"What does Michonne think about this?"

"She doesn't exactly...Know..."

"Judith--"

"I like him! He's nice and funny and he always lets me copy his homework--"

"You know why he does that? Because he doesn't want you to get any smarter than you already are. If you keep cheating off of him, you won't ever learn anything, and that's how he wants it to be! He wants to keep you down."

"You're being silly. Besides, I let him copy off of me more than he lets me copy off of him."

"Then he's using you."

Judith rolled her eyes and looked at her dad, clearly exasperated. If there was ever a time for him to wake up, it was now, so he could pick her side and defend her and her boyfriend. He didn't move. "He's cool, Carl. I think I do want to go to the movies with him. I don't know, though. It'll be awkward."

Carl sighed. He wished he could talk her out of it, out of every date she'd ever want to go on, but it'd be selfish of him to do that. He knew that eventually, she'd want to go out with boys, and he didn't have to like it, but he did have to accept it and respect it. As much as he wanted to lock her in a tower and throw away the key, he figured it just wouldn't work out. Eventually, some asshole prince would end up busting her out.

"If you two really like each other, then yeah, it'll probably be awkward." He chuckled. "Most dates are, but first dates especially. Eventually, the awkwardness will go away because you'll start to have a great time with one another and then it'll just be fun."

"What if the awkwardness doesn't go away?"

"Well, that could mean a lot of things. If it doesn't go away, then either A. You're both incredibly shy and you'll need another date to get rid of the nerves or B. You two just don't belong together."

"What if we have a thousand dates and the nerves never go away?"

"Well, that could actually be good. If your nerves never go away then that means that you two really like each other and feel the same about each other as you did when you first met."

"I thought the nerves were supposed to go away, though."

"They are! Just...Not completely?"

"If I don't feel nervous at all, does that mean I don't like him?"

Carl sighed. He wished his dad was still around to answer all these questions. When he'd been younger and had these kinds of questions, Rick had always known how to answer them in the best way. Carl didn't know what he was doing at all, and honestly, was he **really** in **any** position to be giving dating advice? He currently had a sugar daddy, who he was in love with, who didn't know he was in love with him and probably never would.

"Not really." He muttered.

Whatever God there was must've been looking down on him because she'd stopped asking questions after that. She'd turned her attention to Rick, putting her hands in his and letting out a sigh. Carl zoned out as she began talking to him, finding it necessary to give them a bit of privacy. Somehow, his thoughts drifted back to Negan.

The man was so open with everything and yet, he managed to remain a mystery. Carl was starting to feel like maybe there were two Negan's running around, and maybe they were each spending time with Carl.

Carl practically lived with Negan at this point, spending so much time with him that it was pitiful, and yet he didn't know everything about the man, in fact, he knew just enough. Maybe Negan did that on purpose. Maybe he gave Carl just enough to keep him around, but nothing more than that.

Negan could be so sweet some days, treating Carl like royalty, making sure that he was okay at all times, cuddling and kissing him like they were some type of adorable, old married couple. They'd wake up together, get dressed together, spend the day together, and go to bed together. Some days were spent in peaceful silence, some days were spent with them being loud and obnoxious with one another, and some days were somewhere in-between.

Some days, Negan could be a real jackass, and Carl could be one as well.

They couldn't get along all the time, Carl supposed, and spending so much time with the same person could cause problems. Sometimes Negan was extra snappy, extra crude, and just bordering the line. Sometimes he said 'Fuck it' and crossed it completely. He was still caring somehow, but he also managed to be cold and distant. He'd barely glance in Carl's general direction, sometimes even going as far as asking Carl to leave for a while, and Carl would do as he was asked because he knew when he wasn't welcome and he wouldn't stay if Negan didn't want him to.

Sometimes he really managed to get to Carl.

"I just need you to go, I want to be alone for a while. Blow off some steam. I'll still pay you--"

And that was when Carl usually tuned him out, that was when his blood went cold and his skin paled and his eyes glazed. Sometimes he forgot that the only reason he was around was because Negan was paying him. He wanted to forget it. As he'd told Negan a million times before, he'd gladly hang around for free, but Negan wouldn't have it.

"I've never had friends, I won't start now." He'd always say.

They weren't really 'Friends.' or 'Lovers' or 'boyfriends'

Negan was the boss, Carl was the worker. Carl was just doing his job. Negan always reminded him of that. Always made sure he knew. When it seemed Carl was feeling too much, doing too much, showing too much, Negan made sure he knew. It was strictly business.

Carl knew in the back of his mind how this would all turn out. He knew that he was only prolonging the shitty outcome to this situation that was bound to happen, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Carl?"

Carl looked at Judith, allowing his vision to become clear again. He raised his brows and frowned as he noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Do you think he'll wake up?"

"Of course I do."

"Be honest, Carl." She muttered. "Everybody always says that, but I don't think they mean it. They're just saying what they have to say so they don't sound like assholes. I mean, who wants to tell a twelve-year-old kid they don't think her dad will wake up?" She sent Carl a knowing look before wiping her eyes. "You're the only one that's honest with me, Carl. Do you think he'll wake up?"

Carl looked away from her, letting out a small breath. He didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't wanna tell her no because then she'd lose hope. He didn't wanna say yes because then, sure enough, she'd expect their dad to wake up.

"I can't answer that question, Jud. I don't even know myself." He sighed. "You never know what could happen. It's only been two years. Long time for us, but comas have lasted longer and people have woken up from them. We just have to keep hoping and keep being patient."

Judith nodded before leaning over to give Rick a kiss on the cheek and then crawling off the bed. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She muttered.

She always said that when she wanted to cry. Carl reached out to grab her arm, stopping her from walking past him and to the bathroom. He pulled her into his lap and leaned his forehead against her shoulder blades, holding her tightly as she cried. "It'll be okay, Judy, I promise."

***  
"I promise I'll let you cook tomorrow."

Carl was always making promises he couldn't keep. 

He said that damn near every night. Negan had been waiting to cook for the past two and a half weeks. Carl liked cooking so he often hogged the kitchen, always trying new dishes, some incredibly healthy and some not, and they always managed to come out basically okay. Negan wasn't all that great with cooking, which is another reason Carl made sure to hog the kitchen. Negan could cook spaghetti, lasagna, and meatloaf. Other than that, he sucked at cooking. When told that, he always threw a fit. Carl couldn't bring himself to choke more undercooked fish or overcooked steak down, so, he avoided that by getting to the kitchen faster than Negan could and starting the food up before he could argue.

"You know you're lying!" Negan whined. No matter what Carl did, he couldn't avoid the pouting Negan insisted on doing. "I wanna try a new recipe, the one we saw on Facebook a few weeks ago."

"Be more specific."

"The three cheese—" Carl blocked it out the moment he heard that. Negan always ended up burning the cheese to bits and chunks and it never turned out right. Something about involving cheese in the recipe made Negan 1000 times more likely to fuck it up.

"If you can find it again, I'll make it for you."

"I wanna make it myself." Negan pouted. "I never get to cook for you."

"Don't worry, I like it that way."

Carl just barely dodged the pillow that'd been chucked at his head before moving toward the stove to stir the beef in the pan. He was making a healthy stir fry tonight. Nothing but rice, beef, broccoli, carrots and shrimp. Simple but effective.

"You wanna go out of town tomorrow? You don't have any classes for the next two days and I don't do anything but lounge around here all day every day, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it."

Carl would've been offended, but he had no real reason to be. Negan had said he was sick of lounging around the house every day, but he hadn't said he was sick of lounging around with **him**. Besides, Negan was inviting him along, so, clearly, he wasn't bored with him.

"Where do you wanna go?"

"I don't know, wherever you want? I just enjoy road trips a lot. The drive is always fun." Negan shrugged his shoulders as he slowly made his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Carl and resting his chin in the crook of the boy's neck. "We could find a nice hotel, maybe fuck the shit out of each other while we're there—"

"Why do that when we could go camping?" Carl grinned, turning around and wrapping his arms around the man's waist. He stared up at him, trying to appear innocent as he batted his eyelashes. Negan furrowed his brows as he looked at Carl. Carl didn't seem like the camping type. Negan had seen him sprint into the house just to get away from a few flies before, thinking they were bees. "Why the hell would we do that?" He asked aloud.

"Come on, It could be fun! Just me and you...Out in the woods...Alone."

"You tryin' to kill me?" Negan smirked. "I'm getting serial killer vibes here. Calm it down, Dahmer."

"Dahmer didn't kill people in the woods."

"Calm it down, Bundy." Negan corrected himself. Carl shook his head. "Bundy didn't either, he went inside their houses and—"

"I really do not like how much you know about serial killers, Carl. Seriously, calm that shit down. I'm starting to feel a little alarmed."

Carl rolled his eyes before turning around to turn the stove off before the food ended up burning. "We don't have to go camping if you don't want to, but I think it could be fun. You ever been camping before?"

"Plenty of times." Negan shrugged. "Mostly just on the nights when the feds were looking for me. They never checked the woods."

"Your turn to calm down, Mr. Dangerous. You mooned a cop and stole a burger from an old lady, I don't think the cops were all that concerned about you and your whereabouts." Carl joked, smirking as he slid away from Negan to plate the food.

"I was a hard criminal, Carl." Negan huffed.

Carl knew that Negan really had been to jail for committing quite a few serious crimes, but Negan seemed to want to make light of it and so did he, so, they focused on the not so big crimes that Negan had committed.

"Of course you were, dear."

Negan rolled his eyes, taking a seat at their—his table. He really needed to quit calling all his shit their's.

"I think camping could actually be a good time. Just me, you and nature. Sounds like a dream...We could wake up early tomorrow morning and head out."

"Great! It's a date."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Negan go camping.

"If you wake up now, I'll let you have this big, juicy, delicious, bacon cheese burger...No?" Carl sighed before putting the burger back in the bag. "You're still as pure and as honest as you always were, I guess. Never took any bribes. I'm telling you dad, it's not too late to start. Just be like the rest of us slimy, easily corrupted humans and indulge in the wonderful, not honestly earned, gifts of life...You're not fooling anybody. I know you're sick of the fluids they're giving you. That's not real food. Wanna know what is? High calorie, greasy restaurant food. You wake up right now, I'll buy you all the shitty food you want, promise...Anything?"

Rick didn't budge. Carl sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. Be that way. Every unhealthy food that I offer you that you don't wake up to take—I'll eat it. Just know that if you wake up and I weigh six hundred pounds and I'm on the verge of death by heart attack, it's all your fault. You could've stopped it. All you had to do was wake up."

Nothing.

Carl rolled his eyes before taking a defiant bite out of his burger. "It's all on you." He muttered out, catching a piece of bread that fell out of his mouth as he was talking. He coughed, having sucked in a breath which made a piece of meat get caught in his throat. He quickly grabbed his drink, slurping some of it down before burping. He shook his head. "All on you."

*

"How about, I buy you a burger and we call it even?" Negan suggests. Carl rolls his eyes and keeps stomping forward, eager to just get in the car and get this show on the road. They needed to get to the mountains soon so that they could go for a quick hike before finding a place to set up camp. The car ride would take at least two hours, the hike would most likely take three because they didn't want to rush, and there needed to be extra time in case something went wrong. They needed to find a good, safe place to set up camp before nightfall, so although they had all day, they really needed to get a move on. "We don't have time to stop at a restaurant, Negan. Besides, theres no burgers in the wilderness."

"There is if we find a cow." Negan muttered to himself. Carl shoots him one of those underwear dropping, icy ass glares and Negan puts his hands up in surrender. "I'm kidding...Although, cows **are** made into burgers you know. I don't know why you're so offended considering the amount of burgers you eat every—" He stops himself when Carl's glare doesn't ease up. "I'm sorry about what I said, Carl." He sighs.

Carl rolls his eyes. "It's fine. If you hate my underwear so much, I'll just quit wearing them."

"Is that a threat? A promise? Is that supposed to make me feel bad? I don't. If anything, I'm now glad I made fun of your old man undies--"

"They were yours in the first place, Negan. I was just wearing them because I didn't have any other ones just lying around. You're making fun of your own taste in underwear."

"Yeah, but I **am** old so **I** can wear them. I'm fifty years old. Nobody expects me to be walking around here in a leopard print thong."

Carl slams the trunk shut after they're sure they've put everything they needed to inside of it and then heads toward the front of the car to get in, hoping Negan will follow suit. He does, thankfully, and they're off in a matter of seconds. "I do." Carl mutters.

"What?"

"Now that you've said it, **I do** expect you to wear a leopard print thong sometimes. Just around the house--"

"You shitting me?"

"Nope. It's either that or silk panties. Take your pick."

"Panties are **your** thing, Carl."

"Since when?"

"Since we talked about this the last time--"

"The last time? When did we talk about this? When did we come to the conclusion that I'm supposed to be the one walking around in panties?"

"When you had twelve shots and a beer that one night at the bar."

Carl rolled his eyes and said his piece, trying to convince Negan that that had never happened despite the fact that he faintly remembered the conversation. That's how it went for the majority of the car ride, them bickering over things that didn't mean anything and holding a light conversation. When they weren't doing that, a soothing silence filled the air.

Three hours into the ride, it was established that they were lost. Actually, Carl had figured that out thirty minutes ago because he knew that by now they were supposed to be halfway up a mountain, sweating, gasping for breath, complaining about how out of shape they were and swatting away bugs. Negan had reassured him that they weren't lost ten times, saying it even when Carl hadn't asked, which was only further proof that they were lost. And why exactly **were** they lost? Was it because Negan insisted that he somehow knew this unfamiliar area? Was it because Negan had insisted that they use their phones as least as possible, even if they were only using it to get directions? Was it because he hadn't yet learned how to work his GPS and had refused to let Carl have a go at it, claiming that he'd figure it out eventually? Was it because he'd insisted on them using an actual, old ass, dusty ass, probably from the 1980s ass map that he'd had stuffed in his glove compartment? Was it because he had no idea how to read said map or any other map for that matter, and refused to let Carl take a look at it?

All of the above, probably.

Carl wasn't all that concerned. He'd made sure they left earlier than they'd planned to for this exact reason; So there'd be room for mistakes.

"See, this spot right here, this is where we're trying to get to." Negan explained as if Carl didn't already know, pointing toward a small spot on the map. Carl looked at the old piece of paper and narrowed his eyes before rolling them. " **No** , we're **not** trying to get there."

"Yes we are! That's the spot we're trying to get to!"

" **That** is a dead ant, stuck to the paper."

Negan slowly removed his glasses from his shirt, holding them close to his face before frowning. "Shit." he muttered. "...Not a word."

Carl bit his lip to keep his mouth shut, otherwise, he would've yelled at Negan for being a jackass and not wearing his glasses when he knew he needed them. "Don't worry about it. We passed a gas station not too far back, we can just go back there and ask for directions if you really still insist that we don't use our phones."

Negan nodded before pulling over to turn the car around, the road thankfully deserted. "And get snacks."

"No."

"Why not?!" Negan whined. Carl balled his fist up and huffed. They'd been over this a hundred times already. "Because we're camping. Going out into the middle of the woods and escaping reality. There are no restaurants and no fancy snacks out in the woods."

"What do you think we're gonna do out here, Carl? Shoot squirrels and rabbits and have those for dinner?" "I brought beans." Carl shrugged. Negan scoffed. " **Beans**." He shook his head. "Beans my ass...Beans."

Negan grumbled about beans until they got to the gas station, while they were in the gas station, and after Carl had dragged him out of the gas station, no snacks in Negan's hands because Carl had forced him to put them back. Negan was in a less than grand mood, not only because of his lack of snacks but also because the cashier had given Carl a sympathetic look and told him 'I have a grandpa like that too. They're crazy but lovable.'

"Grandpa my ass." When Negan was done muttering about beans, he started rambling about that. "I don't look a god damn day over 35."

"Of course, you don't, honey."

***

Negan's mood had taken a complete 360. Suddenly, as they climbed up a humongous fucking mountain all too close to the blazing hot sun, he was all smiles. He'd always enjoyed nature, always loved being outside surrounded by fresh air and fresh smells and beautiful animals. He felt at peace when he was out in the open, and he loved his exercise as well. Hiking was one of his all-time favorite activities. Taking off his shirt and letting the sun caress his skin, his hair blowing every so often due to the peaceful winds passing by, birds chirping all around him. He felt nice. This was bliss.

Carl couldn't say the same. It's like they'd switched moods or something. Hiking had, of course, been Negan's idea. Carl didn't want to argue, knowing how much Negan had talked about loving hiking, how it helped him clear his head and enter a peaceful state of mind. Carl thought he deserved that. Deserved to blow off some steam, get rid of his stress temporarily, but **damn**. Why did he have to do it this way? Why did hiking, of all things, have to be the thing Negan enjoyed most? Why couldn't he just be a swimmer?

Carl hated hiking with a passion. He wasn't the most in shape he'd ever been. Stripping, as much as he hated it, had been keeping him in decent shape, but after he quit, he really hadn't been getting any exercise. He hated running, or even just walking, for that matter, and he couldn't find it in himself to stick to some type of workout routine. He was scared to death of lifting weights, knowing just how clumsy he could be and just how likely it was that he'd end up dropping one on his foot and working out in a public gym at all for any reason was not appealing to him. He didn't want people to see him like that: All breathless and sweaty and flustered.

Well, Negan had seen him like that plenty of times, but for **different** reasons.

Yoga, as easy as he'd suspected it was, was fucking difficult. He could be flexible when it was necessary, Negan had found that out quite quickly, but some of the poses were just too damn difficult for him. Pilates, aerobics--He wouldn't be able to live down the teasing that'd ensue if he considered taking either of those and besides, they seemed to be difficult too. He just wasn't the kind of guy who enjoyed working out.

Plus, more often than not he was eating something greasy and unhealthy. Dieting was not for him. All these unhealthy habits combined--Well, yeah, he was skinny, but he most certainly was not in shape. He could barely travel up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, but a mountain? An entire mountain? If he passed out and tumbled to his death right now he'd be fine with it. His calves were killing him, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he felt quite restricted. Not to mention the weather--The warmest of fucking days just had to occur when Negan wanted to go hiking.

Trying to hike when the sun is doing it's best to set your whole body ablaze is not fun, but whats worse than that? Trying to hike when the sun is doing it's best to set your whole body ablaze **and** while there are twenty different types of demon bugs constantly flying at your face, trying to suck your blood out of your body along with your soul, trying to fucking eat you alive. Carl imagined this was what war was like.

And Negan was enjoying it like hell.

"Quit dragging, kid. You don't keep up, you'll get lost."

If Carl wasn't close to passing out due to the lack of oxygen he was getting, he would've told Negan to fuck himself with a sharp ass rock because he of all people was in no position to be talking about anyone getting lost.

"This shit is **beautiful**!" Negan exclaimed, holding his arms out as he stopped in his tracks. Carl was thankful, maybe now they'd be taking a short break. "I've never seen anything so gorgeous! Well, you know, other than--" And Carl was a fool for expecting to hear anything cute. "--Myself in the mirror." **A fool**.

After finally catching up with Negan, Carl stopped and placed his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and wishing like hell that he had an oxygen tank with him, while his eyes scanned their surroundings. He could barely see anything over the harsh glare of the sun, but what he did see was...Trees. An endless amount of trees. Everywhere. Also, dirt. They could've just as easily seen this where their--Negan's house was. "Gorgeous." He muttered.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. Let's get going again! Don't want it to get dark on us before we can find a proper place to set up camp, and since those chicken legs of yours are moving so slowly--"

"I don't have chicken legs, you old bat." Carl hissed.

"Okay, jello legs then."

Carl was silent, refusing to waste what little bit of breath he had on Negan. As he swatted away another fly and shook his leg to get the ants that'd started crawling on him off, he couldn't help but wish that they'd stayed lost. Unfortunately, they'd only been fifteen minutes away from the location they'd been looking for. Plenty of time for a hike. Lucky them.

***

Hiking had taken longer than Carl thought it would've, but they were still doing good on time. Only just six o'clock, they had another two whole hours of sunlight, and all they really needed was one.

They'd already found their spot, it was fairly close to the mountains they'd just hiked on because Negan had insisted they stay close, knowing he'd want to go for another hike tomorrow. Carl was certainly looking forward to **that**.

"God damn it." Negan howled. Carl didn't even turn to face him, knowing he was still just fussing over how much he sucked at pitching a tent. "This stupid thing is broken, I'm telling you!"

"I told you I'd set it up for you after I'm done with mine."

"I can do it myself." Carl could hear the pouty tone in Negan's voice, and he rolled his eyes before letting a small grin appear on his face. Negan pouted more than Judith ever had.

"Doesn't sound like it." Carl muttered.

When he finished putting up his tent, he moved on to work on Negan's despite the man's arguing. "Why do we even need two tents? We're sleeping together." Negan grumbled as he kicked around some rocks. "Well, I brought two just in case and I wanted to put them both up just...I don't know, just to do it, I guess." Carl shrugged. The young boy seemed casual and nonchalant but Negan didn't buy his excuse. He let it go, though, not willing to quiz the boy about something so unimportant.

When Carl had successfully gotten the 'Broken' tent put up, they got to work on starting a fire. Honestly, it wasn't cold and probably wouldn't get too much cooler even at nightfall, but Carl was determined to make this camping trip just like the other ones he'd been on, so, they did it.

Negan was exceptionally good at this part, having brought a lighter from home. Carl had insisted on them starting the fire by using sticks, the cool way, he'd said, but the moment he'd turned his back to step into the tent and grab their beans, Negan had whipped out his lighter and a crumpled piece of paper.

Carl was impressed when he got back and saw the decently sized flames, running to hug Negan for doing something right, and Negan had basked in the proud energy Carl was producing, unwilling to tell him the truth.

After their fire was made and their beans were warmed, they both sat on a log, Carl leaning his head on Negan's shoulder as they both ate the (In Negan's opinion--Scarce) amount of food.

Both tired from their long yet exciting day, neither said anything as they ate. It was odd for Negan to be so silent, though there had been days before when he'd been uncharacteristically quiet, it was still odd nonetheless.

By the time they were both finished with their food, Negan eating three cans of beans by himself, it was dark out and owls could be heard hooting in the distance. There were still annoying gnats flying around, but Carl felt a lot more peaceful now than he did during the day. The stars were out, shining brightly, and so was the moon. The sight was beautiful, sure, but Negan couldn't help but think that the sky had nothing on Carl, who's eyes were every bit of blue as the sky itself, and somehow brighter.

"I never told you what I do to make my money." Negan muttered.

"You said you wouldn't until we'd been around each other for more than a year."

"Yeah...Should probably wait even longer than that." He chuckled.

"Probably."

"I changed my mind, though. I only said that cause I didn't think you'd be around for more than a few months...We're six months in. A year is fairly close. Halfway there."

"I don't really care how you make your money." Carl laughed.

"Yeah, another reason I'm willing to tell you...Wanna guess?"

"Well, you told me it was nothing illegal, so, I ruled out you being a drug dealer or running a brothel--" Negan laughed loudly which caused Carl to laugh as well before he continued. "You're not a lawyer...Or a doctor...You're some type of business owner...I don't know, really."

"I'm involved in several businesses. I own a company that builds motorcycles, which is where most of my money comes from."

Carl nods, not surprised. Motorcycles seemed to be right down Negan's alley.

"I also kind of own a farm in--"

"What?"

Now this one is the shocker. Negan? A farmer? Carl clutches his side as he laughs at the thought. He'd never even thought of the possibility that Negan could be into farming. "Shut up, asshole." Negan pushed him sideways before pulling him back into his side again. "That whole deal is kind of complimented. The farm is mine, but obviously, someone else runs it. Since it's my land, I get some profit from it...Then there's buying and selling houses--"

"I love that." Carl nodded, wiping a stray tear away from his face after his little laughing fit was over. "You mean you buy houses that aren't that nice, remodel them and then sell them?" He asked. Negan nodded. "Yeah, that's cool." Carl grinned.

"Maybe one day I'll let you help me out with remodeling a house." Negan suggested. "Since you seem pretty into it. It'd give you a bit of experience in the area, so, if you ever wanted to do it you'd be almost kind of credible." He laughed.

"Thanks." Carl smiled as he grabbed Negan's large hand. "Sounds fun."

"It can be...I've also invested in a few stocks. Brings in a bit of money. There are a few other ways that I'm bringing in the bucks, but I can't tell you **all** my secrets tonight." Negan winked. "Stick around and find out more."

"I will." Carl patted the man's thigh before leaning up to give him a kiss on the jaw. "All that stuff is pretty cool. I wanna own a business one day. Don't know if I could."

"You totally could! I think you're perfect for it. A real hardass when you need to be. You'd get shit done."

"Maybe." Carl sighed. "I wonder if I'm going to college for the wrong thing. Always wanted to start a business, yet I'm not taking any business classes."

"Thought you wanted to be a physical therapist? Isn't that what you're in college for?"

Carl blushed. He'd wanted to be a physical therapist because of his dad's coma, knowing that whenever he came out of it, he'd need one, but it just wasn't the job Carl wanted to have. "No, I just...I'm taking a few different classes. Journalism, psychology, sociology. I wanna be some kind of counselor or something...I don't know." he laughs. "I'm not all that interested in it but having a degree in it is good."

Negan nods and leaves it at that. Every time they talked about college, Carl ended up stressing the hell out, and the night was peaceful so he didn't wanna ruin it. He did have one question, though.

"You hate the outdoors more than anybody I know. Why did you wanna come camping?"

Carl sighed before looking down at his feet. "I hate camping." he admits.

"But you wanted to come out here—"

"My dad loves camping."

Negan hums in acknowledgment, nodding his head once again. Now it's clear. Carl shakes his head and gives Negan a small smile. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged us out here, it's just...I miss him a lot and, I don't know, we used to camp a lot around this time. I always hated it but he always dragged us out to the woods and made us 'Soak in the Earth's beauty'." Carl rolled his eyes, amusement washing over his face. "He was busy being a cop most times, so, he didn't have a lot of time to spend with us, but he made every moment count. He loved taking us camping to spend quality time with us and I used to whine and complain about it until I was blue in the face, but he always ignored me and kept being all happy and positive and I always ended up having fun in the end. Hated to leave every time it was time to go...I'd do anything to go camping with him again."

" **When** he wakes up, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to take you again." Negan smiled before squeezing Carl tightly. "Why don't we go to bed? Long day tomorrow. More hiking, more exploring...Just you, me and the wilderness, kid."

"Great." Carl rolled his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl has to figure out a way to tell Negan he's got a date.

"You're nineteen years old and you haven't dated anyone in...Have you ever dated anyone, Carl?" Enid raised her brows and jutted her lips out, crossing her arms as she leaned against the large bookshelf Carl was so focused on. "Carl!" She tried to catch his attention. He sighed, not looking away from the large book in his hand. "Of course I've dated someone, Enid."

"But have you really, though?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. In high school. It's been awhile, but there was some...What the hell? Why am I going along with this? You know I've dated people before, you know I've dated lots of people before!"

"Two billion years ago." She rolled her eyes. "I know what you've been through...What you're going through, and I know that you're busy, but come on, Carl! You've gotta live a little, you know? You don't wanna be thirty years old without any experience in the romance department."

"Trust me, I'm living a lot...Did Beth put you up to this? I know she did."

"Of course not, Carl. I'm just being a good friend. A concerned friend! I'm just showing I care."

"Doesn't sound like you." He smirked. "I told you I got into a car accident just to see what you'd say that one time, and remember, you told me to go fuck myself."

"Because I knew you were lying."

"No, because you were too busy tongue wrestling with Chris to care."

"In my defense, I've told you that you drive terribly a billion times before and you refuse to practice, so, if you get in an accident, it's all on you. I refuse to feel bad."

"Beth made you track me down since I don't listen to her, and wants you to convince me to date that Ron guy, that's what this is." Carl changed the subject as he walked back to their table, Enid hot on his heels. "As I've told her, the answer is no."

"Everyone in our friend group is in a relationship except for you." Enid whined. "Me and Chris, Tara and Rosita, Beth and Nick, you and...Oh, right. Nobody."

"I'm not dating anyone else that Beth is trying to set me up with. Remember all the other shitty dates she got me? First, there was that weird fuckin' guy--What was his name?"

"Mikey."

"Mikey! Then, it was her brothers, Shawn and Billy--I still can't hang out at her house anymore because of **that** situation--And let's not forget that psychotic ass nuisance, Lydia."

"Lydia was wonderful."

"Sure." Carl scoffed. "We dated for a month and she burned half my closet when we broke up."

"You dumped her in a terrible way, Carl."

"I was scared for my life! I wasn't gonna talk to her about it in person!"

"An email though? You couldn't even text her? You had to send her a fucking email? Nobody checks their email anymore, it isn't 2007. It took her two weeks just to figure out that you two weren't dating anymore."

"She should've known! I was avoiding her like the plague after I sent it!"

"You did that when you two were together."

Carl narrowed his eyes at her before flipping through the pages of his book. He was supposed to be here finding information for a report he was doing in his psychology class, not getting harassed about his love life by one of his best friends.

"I am not going on a date with anyone else that Beth deems worthy of me." He rolls his eyes. "I haven't talked to Ron that many times, but theres definitely something off with him. He's got these beady little eyes and this blank ass stare and he just--He gives me the creeps."

"You're so judgmental."

He side eyed her. "I'm honest. You know you feel the same way I do. I've seen you interact with him."

She rolled her eyes before slumping in her seat. He wasn't exactly...Wrong.

"I think he might just be a bit...Shy. A bit awkward, you know? He doesn't mean to come off as creepy he just...Does. Some people can't help it."

"If someone seems creepy to you, you should not involve yourself with them. You know someone else who some people thought was creepy, but decided to give a chance anyway? Jeffrey Dahmer. How did that turn out?"

Enid hid her face in her hands to hold in the scream she felt like letting out in that moment. "Carl, please, I'm begging you, give the guy a fucking chance."

"Why do you care so much? I've never seen you waste so much energy on trying to persuade someone of something."

Enid hesitated for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "I promised Beth I'd get you to agree to go on a date with Ron this Saturday if she gave me twenty bucks." She muttered. Carl glared at her and she shrugged. "I needed the twenty bucks! I saw these cute Jeans on sale at forever 21--Look, I needed money badly, Carl! She gave it to me because she knows that when I want to be, I can be very convincing."

"Looks like your luck has run out. I'm not going on a date with this guy, and nothing you say will convince me to."

"What if I told you that you not showing up would break his heart?"

"He doesn't even know we're talking about this." Carl shrugs.

"Well..."

" **Enid**."

"She was so convinced that I'd be able to get you to agree to it that she went ahead and told him you'd be there!" Enid whisper shouted. "It's not going to kill you--"

"It just might! Remember! Dah-mer!"

"He is not a serial killer, for god sakes, Carl!"

"Do you know that for a **fact**?!"

They both stopped talking, realizing how loud they were getting and not wanting to deal with the wrath of the librarian. Carl sighed before letting out a frustrated groaned. He didn't wanna be the asshole that stood somebody up--That shit could be scarring as hell.

He trusted Enid and he trusted Beth too, so, telling them about Negan wouldn't be the worst, but he didn't want to. Not yet, and he wasn't sure if he ever would. Explaining the situation would be...Weird, and not only that, he and Negan were doing fairly well without others knowing about them being together. Negan was Carl's little secret and Carl was Negan's. Negan was something that Carl didn't have to share with anyone else, and that was nice. He liked that it was just them for now. Only the two of them knew what the two of them were up to, and that's how Carl liked it. Maybe one day, if he and Negan were still 'Together' Carl would tell his friends what was going on, but that day just wasn't today. So, as it seemed, today he'd be going on a date with some other fucker.

"If he murders me, I will haunt you until the day you die."

***

Carl isn't sure how Negan will take it. One day after they come back from their lovely little camping trip, Carl has to tell him that he's got a date with somebody else. Would Negan even care?

Well, yeah. Negan hadn't exactly said that he wanted Carl to be his and only his, he hadn't said that he didn't want Carl to date anyone else, but it was kind of a given. How would Carl date someone else if he spent all his time with Negan? He wouldn't. He wasn't supposed to.

Negan had been out all day, running errands and taking care of business, and Carl was glad. After he'd left the library, he'd high tailed it to Negan's house and started taking out all the ingredients he could find. He was gonna make something delicious for dinner tonight, something they hadn't had in a while.

Negan loved seafood, so, Carl worked with what they had. Crab legs, fish, and shrimp. He thought briefly about going out to buy a lobster, but he pushed the thought to the back of his head. First of all, he didn't know where in the hell to go to buy an actual fucking lobster and second of all, that was too much even for him and Negan.

He'd stick with making the fanciest seafood he could at home and bringing out the nice wine.

Lot's of wine.

Carl, ever the multitasker, had also remade Negan's bed so that it would be fresh and incredibly comfortable to sleep in, and he'd run Negan a bath, filled with bubbles. The bathroom and kitchen were both full of lovely smelling candles, and the TV in the living room was playing reruns of Negan's current favorite show, Orange Is the New Black (Of fucking course), the living room was a beautiful mess of all the pillows and large blankets that were in the house, and, the icing on the cake, Carl was wearing nothing but tight black underwear, simple but effective (Which seemed to be his motto lately), which he knew were Negan's favorite. He'd even taken the time to wash and blow-dry his hair so that it looked smooth and silky and Negan would feel inclined to yank on it. Not only that, but he'd put on that stupid eye bandage that Negan found so hot for some reason. He couldn't see shit on one side, but he figured it was worth it.

Safe to say, Carl had pulled out all the stops.

Carl had just plated the food and poured the wine into the glasses when he heard Negan's car pulling up in the driveway. He quickly turned off the kitchen light and sat on top of the table, careful to stay away from the few already lit candles that were there, and posed in the most natural yet sexy way he could manage.

Why he was doing all this just to fucking tell Negan about one little date that he didn't even wanna go on was beyond him. Most likely, Negan would nod, shrug his shoulders, and joke about docking his pay for it before kissing his cheek and heading off to another room, unbothered as always. Carl was honestly hoping for an argument, hoping for any sign of jealousy or anger or **anything** that could hint at Negan actually giving a damn. It most likely wouldn't happen, but he could hope.

He was hoping pretty damn hard too.

If he'd done all this shit for nothing, if he didn't get any kind of a reaction from Negan after doing all this fucking shit, it was on to plan B; Throwing one long ass, impressive ass temper tantrum until Negan loved him.

Fuck he did not wanna have to go through with plan B. But he fucking would. He would!

When he heard Negan's boots thudding against the carpet of the living room, the sound getting increasingly close to the kitchen, he repositioned himself slightly so that his back was arched and then put on a sly smirk. "Well, hello there, bossman." He spoke lowly, as flirtatious as he could make it despite his heart thudding in his chest, now feeling shy because **shit**. What if he just looked like a damn fool?

"Well, fuck me." Negan muttered, a large grin crossing his face as he took long strides toward Carl. "You look fucking delicious, one-eyed joe. What's the occasion?"

"Can't I do something nice for you just to do it?"

"No." Negan chuckled, wrapping his arm around the small of Carl's back. "You want something? More money? More clothes? A raise? Negan dick? Now you know you don't have to work for Negan dick, baby, I'll give that to you for fucking free."

"Shut up and sit down." Carl laughed nervously, pushing the man away. "I'm not pushing your chair in for you, you're too big, but I want to, and that's what matters."

"Thanks." Negan rolled his eyes.

When they'd both taken a seat, Carl watched closely as Negan's eyes lit up while he looked at his plate. There were few things in this world that Negan loved as much as he loved seafood. Hiking and seafood were his main sources of happiness.

"Holy fuck, a buffet."

"There are only three things on the plate, Negan." Carl rested his face on his hand and grinned lazily at the man in front of him. The guy was just plain dreamy, in his opinion. Looking all goofy as he shoveled a fuck ton of food into his mouth as if he was being timed or he thought it'd suddenly be taken away from him, somehow managing to look attractive even as he wiped fish juice away from his lips. 'Fucking adorable' Carl thought to himself.

"You get pink eye again?" Negan asked pointing to Carl's bandage, his voice muffled as he spoke around his food. Carl shook his head and ran his index finger up and down his wine glass, collecting some of the water droplets and flicking them away. "No, I just--I know you like it, Negan."

Carl barely touched his food, too nervous to eat, and Negan scarfed his down like it was his first meal in months, so, dinner didn't last all that long, thankfully. Carl was ready to get on to the next part of the night. The bath.

He'd been smart enough to make sure the water was scalding hot when he first ran it so that it'd still be warm enough for them when it was time to crawl in. The tub was big enough to fit an entire family, so, after stripping off all their clothes--Carl not having many to get off in the first place-- they both climbed in, facing each other. Carl shut his eyes and tilted his head back, sliding down. He made sure that his foot made contact with Negan's dick a few times as he 'Readjusted his position' and let out an obscene moan as he arched his back. "This feels **so** good."

"Not as good as you're gonna feel when we're out of this bath." Negan muttered. "What's up anyways, Nick Fury wannabe?" He chuckled as he kicked his own foot up to splash Carl. "Why are you trying to make tonight so romantic? Usually, whenever I go out and come back home you flip me off and then go to sleep."

"Har-har." Carl rolled his eyes before--with much embarrassing struggle-- repositioning himself so that he was on his knees and then clumsily making his way over to lay on Negan. He placed his hands on the man's chest before smiling up at him and leaning up to give him a short peck on the lips. "You do a lot for me, and I wanna show you some appreciation." He wasn't **completely** lying.

"I just appreciate you being here, Carl." Negan shrugged as he ran his fingers through Carl's hair. "However, you cooking seafood and running a bath for me every night? I will not argue with that."

"Don't get used to it."

It was silent after that, the only sound being the water swishing every time one of them moved. Carl laid his head on Negan's chest, nearly lulled to sleep by how soothing both the water and Negan's presence was, but he snapped his eyes open every time they fluttered shut. He had a mission to complete.

They both decided to get out of the bath when their skin began to shrivel up, and neither bothered to put on any clothes. Carl knew he couldn't put it off anymore, so, as he watched Negan make himself comfortable in his freshly made bed, he remained standing, clearing his throat and wringing his hands.

"I totally forgot to mention--" He hit his head as if it was just coming to him, trying to seem casual and clearly failing, judging by the look Negan was sending him. "--My friends have been trying to set me up on a date with this guy for a while and--Well, I'm gonna go...I mean, I don't have a choice, really!"

"You don't have a choice?"

"My friend Beth--She set up the date without telling me, thinking that my other friend, Enid, would be able to convince me to go. They don't know about you, you know? So, they think I'm lonely and they want me to go out on dates and--I can't back out because that would be rude."

"So what?"

Carl rolled his eyes as he crawled on the bed, sitting on his knees. "So, I don't wanna be rude. Being stood up for a date probably sucks. A lot. I don't wanna do that. It's just one date, it won't mean anything."

"When?"

"It's on Saturday."

Negan was silent for a moment, his eyes flickering between Carl and the wall across from him. Carl held his breath as he waited for the man's response. He couldn't really read him. He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look upset in the least bit, which made a sinking feeling settle in Carl's stomach.

"We don't have anything special planned for Saturday." Negan shrugged. He cleared his throat as his eyes finally slowly found Carl's. "I don't love it, but I get it. I mean it could be time spent fucking me, but I get it." He chuckled. "Just don't be out too late okay?"

Carl tried to find any sign of any emotion on Negan's face, but he looked the same as always. Not sad, not mad, and certainly not jealous. Carl sighed quietly. He really fucking needed to shove all his feelings down, bury them deep and forget about them because clearly, this was going nowhere. They'd spent months together and Negan hadn't developed any deep feelings for him yet, which meant he wasn't ever going to.

Carl didn't get it. They acted like a fucking couple, sharing cuddles and kisses and playful banter, always wanting to be around one another, comforting each other when they needed it, fucking each other so passionately. Every now and then, Negan would even say 'I love you, kid.' When Carl did something really good, and he'd sound like he meant it 100%. But he didn't.

Carl couldn't fucking understand how they could be such a good couple without being a couple. Why couldn't they just make it official? They might as well.

"Okay?" Negan asked again.

Carl would just have to accept the fact that this was all just entertainment for Negan. No real feelings at all. Nothing between them was real. They weren't exclusive, never would be, and that's just how it had to be.

The way Negan treated him made him feel special, but he wasn't. Negan could just as easily treat anybody else the way he treated him. He could 'fire' Carl whenever he wanted and find somebody else to be cute with.

This was all just a business deal. A way for Carl to get money and a way for Negan to not be lonely. Nothing more and nothing less.

"Yeah." Carl nodded.

"Great!" Negan smiled. "So, you wanna have a little freaky deaky?" He wiggled his brows.

Carl chuckled before shaking his head. "I'm tired from cooking and stuff. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, kid. I've got hands for a reason. You get some sleep."

Carl nodded before crawling into the covers and lying on his side, making sure to face away from Negan and keep as much distance between them as possible. He felt stupid as he felt tears sliding down his face and thumping against the pillow as he heard Negan shuffling around, hissing every now and then as he rubbed himself rapidly, trying to get off.

Carl wondered if he should quit while he was ahead. If he should tell Negan that they needed to go their separate ways. Maybe he could search for a job. Stick around until he got one and then duck the fuck out.

He sighed, shutting his eyes. He'd just have to sleep on it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl goes on a date with Ron.

Carl cursed loudly as he fumbled with the stupid tie he had on, trying to straighten it out and failing horribly. Why he was trying to look good for a guy he didn't even wanna be in the same room with was beyond him, but he guessed it was just in his genetic makeup. He always dressed to impress, no matter what.

"Let me do it." Negan rolled his eyes as he swatted Carl's hands away from the tie. Carl muttered a thank you as he stared at Negan's hands working their magic. "It's not fair, you've had more practice than me."

"Just be happy one of us knows what we're doing so you don't have to look like an asshole with a crooked tie all throughout your date."

Carl stayed quiet as he waited impatiently for Negan to finish fumbling with the stupid accessory. He was standing too close for comfort and Carl was eager to distance himself.

When Negan was finally done, Carl looked at himself in the mirror, grinning as he noticed how dapper he looked. He was wearing what he deemed a fancy enough blue suit which made his eyes appear deeper and darker and even more stunning than they usually did, or so Negan had said. He'd even put his hair into a neat bun, his bang still covering his eye, just how he liked it.

When he was sure that he looked good enough, he grabbed his car keys and jacket from the table sitting beside the front door. "Guess I'll head out. See you in a bit."

"Carl, wait." Negan called.

For a split second, Carl found himself hoping that Negan was gonna come over, drop down to his knees and beg him to stay. "Don't forget your phone." He said instead. Carl sighed and walked over to the couch where he'd left it. "Thanks, Negan."

"You're welcome. Don't be out too late and call me if you need me. Have fun!"

Carl rolled his eyes as he walked out of the front door, muttering to himself as he stomped to Negan's car, which he'd allowed Carl to borrow for the night. After hopping inside, he rubbed his fingers through his hair before leaning back in the seat and shutting his eyes. He didn't feel like sitting through an awkward ass date tonight, and worse than that, he didn't feel like coming back to Negan's house all tired and depressed because of how shitty the night will have gone and having to deal with pretending he wasn't fucking in love with the old bastard.

If he wasn't using Negan's car, he would just go to his own house to spend the night. He hadn't been there in over two weeks, and it was starting to seem like he was paying for not one but **two** houses he wasn't living in anymore, but he couldn't just not pay his bills. Soon enough, he'd need his house.

He hated the thought of that, but he couldn't stay with Negan forever. Soon enough...

Carl groaned before starting the car. Tonight would be a long night.

***

The restaurant was crowded, full of people who looked like they were worth a billion bucks or more, and Carl wasn't any different. He'd worn his best and most expensive suit, hoping it'd be good enough for such an elegant place, and judging by the few winks and smiles he'd been receiving, it was.

This really wasn't his scene. This was the type of place that stressed him out, the type of place he avoided going to as much as possible. Even Negan, his sugar daddy, didn't take him to places like this because he hated them too.

Everybody here seemed to be Rich, and they had to be, considering how expensive the place was. A five-star Italian restaurant, cliche as all hell in every aspect of the word. It was quiet yet loud, and everything was just so...Fancy.

Carl was impressed that Ron, a college kid, could even afford to go to a place like this, but that didn't change the fact that he hated this place.

He sighed to himself as he shook his head. Maybe he was just being an ungrateful bitch. He had to get all these negative thoughts out of his head quickly or else he'd end up acting like a bitter asshole all night, and he didn't want that. He didn't have to like Ron, but he didn't have to disrespect him either.

After he was shown to his table, he sat, waiting for Ron to show up. It was only a matter of minutes before he appeared and their date would officially start. Carl took the few moments he had to himself to drink a few sips of the wine he'd been served to try to soothe his nerves, and chomp on a few breadsticks.

"Carl?"

Oh, boy. It was time.

Carl turned around, mouth full of bread and saw a nervous looking Ron standing there. Carl waved at him, trying to swallow the bread as quickly as he could, but it was a difficult task.

Ron took a seat across from him and gave him what Carl assumed was supposed to be a smile but looked more like a grimace. "Great to see you." It was so monotonous that Carl briefly wondered if he wasn't the only one being forced to suffer through this date. "You too!" He tried to make up for Ron's lack of enthusiasm by muffling out his response, ignoring the food in his mouth. Ron nodded, cleared his throat and blinked at him, not saying anything else. Carl stared back at him, not sure what to do. Small talk really wasn't one of his strong suits, especially when he had at least four more gulps of breadsticks to get down.

Oh so fortunately for Carl, Ron was willing to wait. The two minutes it took for Carl to finally swallow all the bread were spent in silence, Ron staring blankly at him, his dull eyes not leaving Carl's—Or rather, Carl's throat—for anything.

"Um, so—The bread is good! Great, even." Carl gave a thumbs up and chuckled before covering it with a cough. "I—Your tie is cool—"

"I like your suit."

They spoke over each other accidentally, both stuttering out apologies afterward and then growing silent again. More staring ensued and Carl found himself wishing Negan hadn't tied his tie so tight—And where was the waitress?

"Maybe we should order more wine, huh?" Carl joked as he filled his cup up to the brim. When Ron didn't respond—Only glanced at Carl's cup for a second before his eyes darted back to Carl's, or Carl's neck—Carl brought the glass up to his lips and gulped its contents down like his life depended on it. He reached forward to grab the bottle and refill his cup again when he was done, but Ron grabbed his wrist tightly before he could get his hands around the bottle. "You might wanna slow down. Could ruin your liver." Ron's short chuckle sounded forced and Carl nodded. **'Is that important to you, Ron? Is my liver's condition important to you?'** He wondered.

Carl decided to save the question of if Ron was trying to murder him and sell his insides on the black market for later. Right now he was focused on removing his hand from the boy's death grip.

"Right...Right."

Ron sighed as he let go and shook his head, looking down at his hands which he was playing with nervously. "Carl, I'm so sorry." He muttered. "I'm sorry. I know this is off to bad start, I'm just—I'm not used to this type of thing. This isn't the kind of place that I just hang around, you know? And...This is my first date. Ever. So—"

"I get it." Carl nodded, smiling sympathetically. "It can be nerve-wracking. I get it."

"Yeah." Ron mumbled. "I—I hope you like this place. I didn't know where to take you, and I'm sorry for not asking you out myself, it's just, I get nervous around you cause you're, you know, you. You're Carl. Sorry I waited so long to take you out too." He blushed.

Carl smiled. He couldn't believe it, but he thought Ron's blushing was adorable. He'd had people like him before, but nobody had flat out had a crush on him. It was flattering, really.

"It's fine, Ron. Thanks for taking me out now." He smiled. "If you don't mind me asking, how are you able to afford this place? I mean, not that I think you can't! It's just—This is an expensive place." He chuckled nervously. "We can split the bill—"

"No, no it's fine! This is my treat! I've...Well, I hope this isn't too embarrassing or creepy...I've kind of been saving for my first date since I was like twelve. I always wanted it to be really good and I wanted to be able to pay for everything—" He shrugged and his cheeks became an even deeper shade of red. "I stopped for a long while but then I met you and I knew I wanted to take you out so I started back..."

"That is...Adorable!" Carl grinned.

Ron shrugged, not knowing what to say, but thankfully, the waitress had made her way over. "Hello, gentleman, so sorry for your wait. Do you know what you'd like to order?"

***

"You cannot possibly be serious." Carl laughed. "Of all the things to be obsessed with? This?"

"Pretty little liars is a wonderful show, Carl." Ron chuckled before putting another meatball in his mouth. Carl shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter, and also because he was sure he had a salad leaf stuck in his teeth. "Yeah, it's alright I guess, it's just I never expected **you** to be interested in that kind of a show!"

"What do I look like I'm into?"

"I don't know, like, fucking Harry Potter or something? Maybe Percy Jackson?"

"Right, okay, of course!" Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. "I feel like you're trying to send me a message that I do not like."

"Message? There's no message—" Carl laughed loudly before trying to lower his voice as to not disturb the other people still dining. "Just—I don't know, Ron, you can't tell me you haven't watched at least one Harry Potter movie!"

"One doesn't mean anything!"

"I didn't say it did!"

Their laughter died down and Carl watched as Ron took a sip of his water. He raised his brows before gesturing wildly, telling the other boy to confirm what he already knew. "Well, have you watched one or...two?!" He smirked. Ron groaned before sighing and looking down. "Yes—Actually, I've watched all of them b-but that doesn't mean anything!"

Carl burst out laughing again, nodding as Ron threw a crumpled paper towel at him, muttering 'Asshole' before slumping in his seat. "I totally knew it." Carl grinned.

"Yeah, so what, huh? Harry Potter is cool! What about you? What are you into—Fuckin' Disney movies?"

"Of course not! I'm a Nickelodeon guy."

And then they were bickering about which brand was better, Carl winning the argument by reminding Ron of the most iconic Nickelodeon movie ever made, the Drake and Josh Christmas special. Ron let him have that one, not bothering to bring up all the iconic Disney movies made throughout the years. Then they were bickering about the best bands, the best songs, the best foods, the best comics, and so on. They'd long since finished their dinner when they finally got up to leave the restaurant. When they stepped outside, Carl sighed, kicking himself for drinking all that wine. He hadn't been thinking about how he'd get himself and Negan's car back home, and he couldn't possibly drive now.

As if Ron had read his mind, he mentioned it. Carl shrugged and pulled out his phone. Maybe he could call a cab and come back to get Negan's car in the morning. "We could just walk around a bit, maybe give you some time to sober up?" Ron suggested. Carl glanced at the time on his phone and noticed it was already 11:30. He'd been out since eight and Negan had told him not to be out too late. But what did that matter anyway? Negan wasn't his parent, it's not like he could do anything if Carl didn't obey him. With a small shrug and a lazy smirk, Carl nodded and he and Ron began to walk away from the restaurant.

***  
***

Usually, at this time of fucking night Negan was knocked the fuck out, running amuck in dreamland, but tonight he was wide the fuck awake.

2:13 AM.

That's what time it had been when he'd looked at this clock **minutes** ago. 2:13 AM. In the morning. Well, the night. Whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

Now, sometimes Negan got shit mixed up, sometimes he forgot certain details or he remembered them incorrectly—but no, he was sure that this time he was thinking correctly, this time he was right. He had most certainly told that hard-headed, occasionally one-eyed, little fucker to **not** stay out late.

2:13 AM.

Fucking late.

The only reason he hadn't sent out an Amber alert was because he'd received a text, if it could even be called that, less than an hour ago from Carl. Only after, mind you, Negan himself had sent the first one—Or seven.

**Having fun? 9:07**

**Let me know if you need me. 9:45**

**You coming back soon, kid? 11:56**

**You're okay right you little shit ? 12:13**

**I fucking hope he didn't kill you, Carl, but you're not giving me any reason to believe he didn't. 1:05**

**Do you still fucking exist you little asshole? 1:12**

**Where the fuck are those read receipts when you need them? 1:15**

Negan had said it on purpose, hoping that Carl would tease him and remind him that he was apart of the shitty android users club instead of having a magnificent iPhone and couldn't see when people read his messages, just as he usually did, but what the fuck did he get back in response?

**Ok don't wait up. 1:47**

Ok, don't wait up? **OK DON'T WAIT UP?!**

Well, fucking hell. Negan had been told to piss off, basically. Who the hell did that little shit think he was telling him not to wait the fuck up? He hadn't even bothered to add the word 'I'm' before ok. He'd done the barest of the fucking bare minimum!

Negan went over and over it in his head, but the scene always played out the same. He had definitely told Carl **not** to come home too late and Carl was blatantly disregarding what he'd said.

Negan was seething. For several reasons.

He felt disrespected and ignored, and he wasn't fucking used to that. When he said something, people listened, that's how it worked. That's how it'd always fucking worked.

He was concerned as hell for Carl's well-being. What if whoever the fuck he was on the date with tried something and he wasn't there to stop it? What if something bad happened and Carl needed him to come rescue him? How would he? He had no clue who he was with or where they'd gone—And he was really kicking himself for that because yeah, maybe he fucking should've asked, but he'd assume that Carl would be back within an hour or two the way he was dragging about before he'd left.

Not only that, but Negan fucking missed—

Well, that wasn't—He didn't **miss** Carl he just missed the company. The warm body lying next to his as they slept, the sound of soft, deep breathing. Isn't that what the fuck he was paying Carl for? Company? So why wasn't he getting it?

Negan didn't wanna throw a hissy fit over Carl not being there one time when he wanted him to be. It wouldn't be fair—The boy had a life outside of him, he wasn't just there to please Negan.

Well, that could be debatable—

No. He isn't there just to please Negan, he's just—It's just nice when he does...?

The worst part of this whole ordeal is the fact that it's making Negan think so much.

He'd never reacted this way when Carl went to hang out with his friends, never had a problem in the world with it, but then, Carl never stayed out til 2AM with his friends now did he? No he motherfucking did not.

Negan told himself he was only angry because of how disrespected he felt and because he was worried for Carl's safety, but he knew it was just a little more complicated than that when he felt that...That fucking twinge in his gut.

He rubbed his stomach and shook his head. That feeling wasn't shit else but hunger. It couldn't be. He hadn't eaten since seven.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, but he wouldn't be getting any sleep until Carl got back anyways so he decided to fix himself something good to eat.

That turned out to be a nice, big, juicy sandwich which consisted of three different types of meats, four different types of cheeses, lettuce, tomato, pickles, bacon bits (since he didn't feel like cooking any actual bacon) and...Damn, he'd forgotten what else he'd added.

He took one bite of the sandwich and then passed out, forehead slamming against the table and slobber falling from the corner of his mouth.

Two hours later, Carl tiptoed into the house. He noticed Negan in the kitchen, and fuck, he felt bad, he really did, and he wanted to get the man back to his big, comfy bed, but he couldn't without waking him and he couldn't wake him without alerting him that he was back, and if he did **that** , he'd receive the scolding of his life about twelve hours before he was ready to. So, he placed a sorry kiss upon Negan's jaw and put a blanket over his shoulders before hightailing it to their—Negan's room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise between Negan and Carl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of dark and could be considered triggering for some. Mention of drugs, violence, and sex. Also, underage sexual scenarios.

At this point in Negan's life, he guessed, he could consider himself lucky.

He had a shit ton of money, a large, cozy home in a secluded area to live in, which had been something he'd dreamed of having since he was a kid, a nice car, and a hot ass companion who went by the name of Carl Grimes to look forward to as well.

This was the luckiest he'd ever been in his life. He'd never admit it to Carl, but he considered himself luckier in this time than he was when he was with Lucille.

Negan had always been alone.

When he was a kid, his parents weren't around all that much, not that that was necessarily a bad thing. When they **were** around they were nuisances. His mother ignored him more times than not, but when she paid him any attention it was when he'd done something bad. Like the time in third grade when he got an F on a spelling test he'd begged her to help him study for. When he was younger, he wasn't great at reading. Words...They didn't come so naturally to him, not like they did now, and he had trouble spelling the few words he knew. He'd had a month to study for the huge quiz and he'd seen her seven times during that month. He asked her every time he saw her if she'd help him study because there was no one else around to do it. She said no every time and to this day he remembered the last time he asked her she'd thrown her hands on her hips and glared at him. She'd been standing in their front doorway, her date for the night just outside it, feeling her up as if the little boy wasn't even there, trying to shove his hand up her skin tight dress. She'd been frustrated, wanting to just get to her date, and she'd yelled at him. "Come on, Negan, you see I'm busy! I don't have time to help you with some stupid little test that isn't going to matter the day after you take it! "

She'd slammed the door shut after saying it and Negan hadn't asked for her help again, not that he could've. Too ashamed to ask any of his teachers for extra help, he just pretended the test wasn't happening and he quit worrying about it. Then the time to take it came around and he did the best he could but he'd only made a thirty. He always got anxious taking tests, and that couldn't have helped the situation either.

When his mom was finally home, four days after he took the test, she'd found it on the kitchen table where he'd accidentally left it, and she'd stormed into his room, throwing the paper at him and shaking her head. "Seriously?! You couldn't do any better than this? Your teachers are already on my ass about you and your bad behavior, now they're gonna be trying to gyp me out of a shit ton of cash to get you a fuckin' tutor. Stop acting dumb, and get these fucking grades up!"

She'd slammed the door closed after that and Negan had sat on his bed, confused, focusing mostly on the so-called 'Bad behavior'. He hadn't been bad at school as far as he was concerned. She'd only been called about his behavior twice before, both times she hadn't answered the phone because she recognized the school's number, and both times, little did she know, had been because Negan had been student of the month.

So, yeah, that was that. Negan's mother had a short attention span and what little attention she paid to anyone was paid to the men she got her pleasures from, but every now and then she made time to focus on Negan, to focus on screaming at him for one thing or another, and he wasn't fucking mad at her when she did, he'd take whatever he could get. At least he knew she knew he was her son, her living, breathing son, when she was shouting at him.

His dad paid him lots of attention, though.

He didn't show up much, being in and out of jail and leaving the city for months at a time before returning again, only to visit 'old friends'. Sometimes, he'd pop in on Negan, when he wasn't too drugged up to remember that he even had a son, of course.

He always brought 'Gifts' back with him too. Not any school supplies, pets, coloring books, toys, or toilet paper to wipe Negan's ass with. Nothing normal, nothing useful. It was always something along the lines of...What? Some new, popular drug for Negan to try out? Some type of alcohol that Negan had never tried? Cigarettes?

Negan tried not to, but he could still remember the first time his dad popped in for a visit after getting out of jail. Negan had been thirteen. John, Negan's dad, had brought along a friend.

John always tried to teach Negan little lessons when he came around, wanting to be able to say that he'd taught his son something despite not being there for all the major milestones. At least he'd been around for **some** , or so he'd say.

"Some women are good, and some are bad, son. They're all different—Special, even. What works with one woman might not work with another, but there is one thing—Just one sure fire thing—That they **all** have in common."

"What's that?" Negan asked curiously.

"You pay a broad enough, she'll do whatever you want her to do." John had winked. The woman beside him giggled as she slid onto the man's lap, giving him a sloppy kiss as his hand found her way toward her barely covered boob. Negan had looked away, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, but John had snapped his fingers to get his attention again. "You don't look away, son. This here, this is what you'll have in a few years if you play your cards right. I'm your old man, and I care about you, so, I'll tell you what. I'll let you have a little taste right here, right now. But it'll cost you." He grinned.

That night, Negan had made out with a thirty-year-old prostitute who smelled of cigarettes, sex and vomit, and he hadn't particularly enjoyed it, but John had made him think that this was an honor, reward, something he'd grow up and look back on as a fun time, as a dream come true.

Spoiler, he didn't.

Not only had he been forced to make out with a thirty-year-old prostitute in front of his dad, he'd also had to pay John every cent he'd saved up for it. $53.

John, no doubt, had used it to buy weed and beer and to pay the girl.

The next time John came around was when Negan was 15. He'd shown up all bloody and bruised, had nearly banged the door down to get Negan to answer it, and when he finally did, he'd dragged the young boy out of the house and down the street, yelling as he did. "I didn't want you to see me like this, but I was getting my ass kicked and I was thinking about you the whole time. Thinking about how this—This will be you one day. One day you'll owe some douchebag some money and he'll beat your ass black and blue to get it, and you'll wonder what you should do to get back at him for it." John talked quickly as he lead Negan along, a tight grip on his shoulder.

"Where are we going?"

John only grinned at him as he hopped somebody's shitty little fence and gestured for Negan to do the same. When they were both over it and in someone's backyard, the man spoke again. "Now, my boy, you won't have to wonder."

The man who'd apparently beaten John up for drug money had been in the yard, sitting near a fire he'd made, and he'd seen them hop the fence. Negan couldn't get a word in before the two were fighting again, throwing punch after punch at one another, tumbling around much too close to the fire and at one point, both rolling into it, though luckily none of their clothes stayed on fire for that long. Negan had watched, almost blankly, panicking on the inside but too afraid to actually do anything. If he called the cops his dad would just be mad, and there was no one else for him to call. So, he just stood there. Just watched.

Watched as the guy pulled a gun out and tried to shoot at his dad, watched as his dad took the gun and shot the guy in the stomach, watched as his dad ran toward him and hopped over the fence again, only stopping for a second to yell at him. "Another lesson, son, when some shit like that happens—When a crime is committed—It's every man for himself!"

Sirens could already be heard as John took off, and Negan, still dumbstruck, did the same. The cops had only been around the corner and they'd heard the gunshot. Negan had just barely made it to his house when the cars rushed around the corner.

John continued his random visits, managing to get Negan into trouble on some of them, though Negan just narrowly managed to escape it most times. He brought more and more trouble each time he came, but his final visit had really screwed Negan up.

"I've missed you, son!" The man had said breathlessly. All the smoking he'd been doing, it was only fitting that he develop lung cancer. He could barely get a sentence out without coughing up one of his probably jet black, shriveled up lungs. "Listen, I'm not going to make it much longer, and I wanted to drop by to see you one last time before I kick the bucket! Now, I don't have long, but I just wanted to drop by and give you this—"

He'd pulled a large, yellowish, dusty ziplock bag from under his baggy sweatshirt and shoved it into Negan's hands. A bag of drugs, some spilled out into the bag, some in their own small bags. Pills, needles, what looked like meth and weed—All kinds in small portions. "I don't have any other kids to inherit it." He'd laughed.

John wasn't alive to see it because as usual, he wasn't there when it mattered, but Negan had emptied that bag of drugs in a short amount of time.

John hadn't been around to see Negan's first steps, his first words, to see him get his first whooping, his first bad grade or his first good one, to see him get in his first fight, to see him get his first girlfriend, to send him off to his first party, to bail him out the first time he'd gone to jail, the first time he'd gotten drunk or the first time he'd threatened someone with a gun, and following the pattern, he wasn't there to see the first time Negan had passed out on the dirty bathroom floor, high as shit from god knows what, the darkest time of his life thus far, all because of the bag of drugs he'd left the boy.

He wasn't there to see the first time he went to rehab, the first time he failed to stay clean and went right back to using the same drugs he'd fought so hard to quit, the first time he skipped town to avoid jail time.

He wasn't there when he needed to be.

So, yeah, needless to say, Negan's childhood and early adulthood hadn't been all that great. It wasn't until he was in his mid-thirties that he finally managed to get clean and stay clean and get bailed out of jail and stay out of jail and actually do good for himself. The day he vowed to get clean and stay clean had been one of the worst days of his life. He'd gotten the shit beaten out of him by some guy he'd owed money to, and to get him back, Negan had pulled a gun out on him. He didn't shoot. The scene was too familiar and he knew if he pulled the trigger he'd be just like his dad.

Negan had spent the remainder of his thirties doing everything he could to distract himself from his past life and the people in it. He didn't wanna relapse and let himself down, he didn't wanna be like that anymore, so he put all his focus into his work. He worked and he worked and he worked, it was the only thing he ever did, until suddenly he owned his own company and he was no longer the criminal, the bad boy, the no good scum beneath everyone's boots, the guy people read about in their morning papers and talked about with nothing but disgust. He was no longer the type of guy people tried to avoid, the type of guy people warned their kids not to become. Suddenly, he was a businessman, a rich businessman with a boatload of success. Somehow he'd become an inspiration for the people who knew his name, somehow he'd gone from a nameless criminal to a rich guy that people wanted to write good news articles about.

When he was in his early forties, he met Lucille, he fell for her and he fell hard. She understood him, didn't judge him for what his past life was or even for what his current life was, and she made him fall in love with her. They got married, became a happy, married couple, the kind you read about in those lifestyle magazines, and yeah, they had their ups and downs, but they always made it work.

Negan, being a businessman and the son of a sleazy scumbag, had been presented with opportunities with other women, however. Opportunities that he took.

Even as his wife was trapped in a hospital room, wondering when she'd finally take her last breath, he was out screwing blonde bimbos and muscular assholes until there was a body shaped dent in his fucking bed.

So, yeah, that was a pretty great time in his life, but it also kind of sucked when he really thought about it. He'd felt good, but for all the wrong reasons and he didn't feel good when he thought back on it now.

This time of his life though...

He didn't have to lift a finger in order to bring in the big bucks, he was living in his dream house, away from people, just how he liked it, the only person he really had to interact with was the boy he'd **wanted** to interact with, the one he'd hired.

Carl was perfect, by Negan's definition. He looked like a fucking angel. A playboy angel and Negan could spend hours looking at him and getting himself all worked up over how fucking **hot** he was but—but aside from that, Carl was just...

Fucking perfect.

The kid seemed to be the only one that really understood Negan, the only one that knew how to shut the man up or get him talking, whichever needed to happen. The only one that could take all Negan's shit and sling it right the fuck back at him, the only one who knew just what to do to get Negan going.

The little shit was, indeed, tough shit.

The way he carried himself, the way he always had to be so fucking strong and on top of everything, always in charge of everything, the way he managed to be so fucking brave and the way he did whatever he had to do, no questions asked, when he had to do it...

The way he was so hard-headed and stubborn...Trying to change his mind sometimes could be like trying to push a five thousand pound truck for twenty miles without breaking a sweat. Though, Negan was convinced at this point that if anyone could do it, it was the occasionally one-eyed little fucker.

Carl was so prideful and he sucked at asking for help when he needed it and he hated admitting when he was wrong, not that he was very often, anyways. He was naturally protective and perfectly capable of taking over the world if he wanted to and yet...

Negan sometimes forgot that Carl was still just a kid. He forgot it a lot, actually. The boy had the soul and the mind of an eighty-year-old man who's been through twenty wars, but he's still so fucking young. Nineteen, almost twenty, his life just now really starting. He's so put together compared to what Negan was at that age, and Negan finds himself feeling so proud of the boy for everything he's already accomplished sometimes.

Carl, as strong as he is, is so damn innocent and childlike sometimes, though. His youth shines through his hardened exterior, his curiosity always making him seem younger than he is. He's just...

Perfect.

Negan can't figure out another word to use to describe the boy. He's just perfect.

Negan can't think of anyone he'd rather spend so much time with. Something about Carl is so fucking intriguing that Negan just can't take it. He can't get enough of the young boy! The thought of having to find someone else to spend all this time with is unbearable, and he can't help but feel like despite the fact that Carl has stated a thousand times by now that he'd spend time with him for free, and despite the fact that Negan is already paying him twice as much money as he'd paid his previous sugar babies and twice as much as the boy had really earned, he should be giving the kid a fucking raise.

Negan knew that he and Carl spent more time with one another than Negan had spent with his past sugar babies, or even Lucille, for that matter, and he knew that he was acting like he and Carl were an actual couple and that maybe they should cut that shit out, but he couldn't. He didn't wanna admit it, and he wouldn't if it killed him, but Carl was special. The way the young boy made Negan feel, the way he made him **think**...

The way Negan felt toward Carl was more than friendly. He was too attached to the kid, he was feeling too much for him, and he didn't like that.

He could've denied it previously, could've sworn up and down that Carl meant nothing to him, nothing more than a business deal at least, but he couldn't deny it now. Not now, because he was currently screaming at the top of his lungs at the poor kid, trying to get all his maybe not completely necessary anger out.

"—I should be kicking your ass right now, kid, do you have any fucking idea how worried I was about you?! You go out with a strange boy that you barely know, you complain about him like hell before you even go on the date, you tell me you think he's a creepy ass serial killer and **then** you fucking go on the date and don't come back for **hours**! It took you hours to text me the hell back! Carl, if I hadn't fallen asleep I would've called the fucking FBI to locate your little ass—"

Carl, still half asleep, stared at Negan with sleep filled eyes and tried to keep up with what he was saying, but his mind wasn't working that fast just yet. Just a few minutes ago he'd been peacefully sleeping, dreaming about his lovely date with Ron, and now Negan was screaming at him.

Negan had woken up only a few minutes ago as well, his neck and back stiff as shit because he'd been slouched over the kitchen table all night. He grumbled to himself for a moment, mad that his sandwich was now soggy, and then he remembered Carl. Not paying any attention to the blanket that had been draped over his shoulders, he took off toward his bedroom, hoping that Carl would be there, which he was. Negan had let out a relieved sigh, throwing his hands on his head as he thanked the heavens above that the kid was still alive and seemingly unharmed, and then he'd banged his fist on the wall a few times to wake him up.

"—I specifically said, do not fucking come home too fucking late, now tell me, Carl, what part of that was unclear? What part of that was so god damn hard to understand?"

"I—"

"None of it was unclear! You understood what I said you just disregarded it and did what you wanted to do! You little asshole, I could just—UGH!"

Negan stormed out of the room, unable to be near the troublemaking little bastard who'd been sleeping peacefully on his bed minutes ago. Carl groaned as he shoved the covers away from him and stood up, his bare feet making contact with the freezing cold floor. He wished he could still be in bed, sleeping in, having fun in dreamland, but fucking Negan was blowing his top and he needed to get the man to calm down.

He slowly made his way down the hall, unsurprised to see Negan in the living room, pacing. "Good morning." Carl muttered, a small grin on his face. Negan only glared at him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time? Seriously? You're always on that fucking phone of yours and all of a sudden you don't know how to look at the time? And how long does it seriously take to eat dinner and get your ass back home?!"

"I wasn't on my phone because I was having a good time with Ron—" Negan scoffed and Carl rolled his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. "—And dinner lasted like two hours and I had a bunch of wine, so, he suggested that we hang out for a while longer to give me some time to sober up before driving home and I agreed."

Negan narrowed his eyes even more at the boy standing across the room, noticing how fondly he talked about the previous night—The one that had been hell for Negan. He looked like he was daydreaming, looked fucking lovestruck if you asked Negan, and it made him wanna be sick. He could feel his stomach bubbling, and for a moment he thought it was rage rumbling around inside of him, but then he remembered that he hadn't eaten much the previous day so, once again, he blamed it on the hunger.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure, and trying not to sound too jealous when he asked, "What did you two...Do? Where did you go?"

"He didn't drink so he drove us to a comic book store that was still open. We stayed here for a while, reading comics we hadn't gotten to read yet, and then we ended up going to another restaurant to get ice cream. Then we sat in a park and talked." Carl shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "I thought it was still around twelve while we were doing all this but apparently it was a lot later—"

"Yeah, a hell of a lot later." Negan spat.

"I'm sorry, Negan." He didn't fucking sound sorry at all, so the words only made Negan's nostrils flare. "Next time, I'll be sure to text you if I know I'm gonna be so late. I'll keep you updated, I'll—" Negan tuned him out. What the hell did he mean 'next time'? This was supposed to be a one-time thing. Was this gonna be a regular occurrence now? Carl going out with this guy, out at all hours of the night doing god knows what with him?

Negan didn't fucking think so. He didn't wanna be a douchebag, he didn't wanna control Carl at all times, but there could be rules and limits, right? This was all a business deal, and Negan was mostly in charge. If he didn't want Carl going out with random boys and spending so much time with them, he could stop it.

"Negan?"

Negan sighed, plopping down on the couch. He tried to figure out what he should do. He didn't wanna be an absolute asshole to Carl and piss him off. He didn't wanna be so cold and strict, he didn't want the boy to hate him or to feel trapped. Carl was only around because he had to be, because he needed money, and Negan knew that. No matter what the boy said, he was only around for the money and if he stopped getting paid he'd leave in a second. Negan still tried to make the agreement enjoyable for them both. He didn't want Carl to hate spending time with him, he wanted it to be fun for them both. But last night had only been fun for Carl.

"I—I want to spend today alone." Negan muttered. "You can go home. And since you weren't here last night, and won't be here today, I don't think I'll be paying you for these two days."

Carl stood there, confused, flustered and angry. Negan was overreacting. He was making a huge deal out of nothing for no reason. Carl had made a mistake, so what? Negan always fucked up!

Carl was nearly twenty years old, a fucking adult. He could be out however long he wanted to be. Why was he being treated like he was 13 again?

"You're not being fair, Negan." Carl mumbled.

"You wanna lose the whole weeks paycheck?" Negan growled.

"You think I give a fuck about that? Fuck your money, Negan, I—"

"Fuck my money? The money paying your bills? The money you like to spend on fancy suits to go on fancy dates with creepy assholes? Careful what you say, Carl. If you don't want my money, I won't hesitate to stop giving it to you."

Carl stood there, glaring at Negan for a few moments before Negan waved him off, muttering a quiet "Get out."

He went back to Negan's room and grabbed an outfit to wear, putting it on and then shoving his feet into his shoes. He stomped through the house and eventually, out the door.

Negan had told him to come back tomorrow, but he wasn't so sure that he would.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl visits Rick, Negan wants to talk.

"I just feel like you should let me make all your life decisions for you! I mean, come on, Carl, I'm always right about everything and you're always...Not!" Beth rambled before shoving half her muffin into her mouth. "Me being in charge of your life would not be a bad thing, I'm telling you."

Carl rolled his eyes as he focused on downing half of his second cup of coffee. After they were done with their classes for the day, he, Enid and Beth had all decided to go spend an ungodly amount of money at a nearby coffee shop and try to catch up on some of the assignments they'd failed to do by their due dates. Now, surrounded by all kinds of pastries and eight different types of coffees between the three of them, Carl tried to type up a paper while trying to convince Beth that she shouldn't be in charge of his whole entire life just because one date she'd set him up with turned out to not be a total lunatic, unlike the previous ones.

"Did you two have sex?"

"No!" Carl cut her off before she could get the whole sentence out. "I don't have sex on the first date."

"Why not?" Enid snickered before getting quiet again. Instead of doing what she was supposed to be doing and catching up on her assignments, she was reading a book that the book club she'd joined was reading. Truthfully, she didn't particularly enjoy reading in her spare time, but she wanted to do something that'd get her out of her house for a while every now and then, and this was all she could find the courage to do.

"Do you not want to? He's a cute guy." Beth grinned. Carl scanned his laptop screen, trying to see if he'd made any mistakes, but he hadn't. "Yeah, he's cute I guess, it's just, it's early. I **just** figured out that he's not a total creep like I thought he was. I'm not in love with him now, I just...I'm willing to give him a chance."

"Y'all are gonna get married, I just know it." Beth smirked. "You know Nick has been talking about throwing a party at his house for a while, and he and Ron are good friends so I know he'll be there. Would you wanna come to it?"

"I don't know..." Carl muttered.

"Come on, it'd be fun! You could see Ron again without having to make a date out of it, and it'd be a great opportunity for you to catch up with Tara and Rosita because they won't shut up about never seeing you anymore." Beth rolled her eyes. "And it'd be a way for you to just wind down, let loose, have fun...You know, fun? That thing you never have...Ever—"

"I get it." Carl scoffed.

"Come on, We're in college now! We can party all we want to and nobody can tell us any different!"

Carl let out a dry laugh at that. Maybe that was the case for them, but not for him. No, he still had to deal with being told what to do, when to come home, all the shit he'd had to deal with when he was younger.

"I don't know, Beth." He sighed. He did want to see Tara and Rosita again. It'd been at least three months since he'd spent time with them and he missed his friends. Plus, hanging around Nick and Chris would be fun too. He hadn't seen them in a while and they could catch up too. Seeing Ron would obviously be a plus...Carl couldn't wait to see him again, actually. Their date had turned out to be a lot of fun and it was easy to talk to Ron.

Negan wouldn't go for it though. He wouldn't want Carl to go and even if he did let him, he'd want him to be home early before the party could even really get started. And if he didn't come home by the time Negan thought he should, he'd throw a hissy fit just as he had done the night before.

Why should Carl listen to him though? Why should he follow his stupid rules? Sure, the man was paying him, but that didn't mean he completely owned his life. Carl's life didn't revolve around him.

Well...It kind of did.

But it didn't have to.

"You know what, I'll go." Carl shrugged, grinning. "Just let me know when it is and I'll be there."

"I'll be damned." Enid muttered. "I thought we were gonna have to tie you up and drag you there. I'm glad we don't have to put in all that effort."

***

"I'm still doing good in school. My grades are still...Well, I don't know if the word that you **personally** would use would be good, but me, I think they're good...Okay...Not failing."

Carl sighed as he poked Rick's hand every few seconds, hoping to annoy him so much that he'd just spring up and tell him to knock it off. He didn't. "You don't get to judge me okay? I've got some C's and maybe a few high D's, but college is hard and at least I'm trying. You know what you're doing? You're sleeping, so, yeah...You don't get to judge me."

He stared at the man in front of him who hadn't moved an inch since the last time he'd seen him, still looked the exact same as he did two years ago. Well, maybe not the exact same. His facial hair was growing, though the nurses trimmed it down every once in a while.

"That was harsh." He muttered. "I just miss you. I wish you'd lecture me about...you know, all that bullshit you used to lecture me about. Good grades. Integrity...Cursing." Carl chuckled as he reached over to poke Rick's cheek. "I miss you and Michonne grossing me out every day too. All lovey-dovey around the house all the time. It was disgusting! But I miss it...I miss her too. We talk a lot, mostly through text because you know, we're both busy these days...I miss living at home with you guys though. I miss her banging on my door to wake me up and threatening to eat all my breakfast if I didn't get up on time...I miss spending time with you guys in the living room, just watching whatever stupid cartoon Judith wanted to watch. I wish everything could just go back to the way it was. Me being a kid...I miss that. I'm never gonna get that time back. That time with you...It'll never be the same, even if you wake up."

He was quiet for a moment, almost as if awaiting Rick's response, but he continued on soon enough after not getting one. "I miss having conversations with you. Ones where you'd actually reply to me. A two-sided conversation...You used to have a lot to say. I used to wish you'd just be quiet...Now since you're not saying anything I just...I wish I had never wished that."

Nothing.

"Last time I was here Judith asked me if you'd ever wake up. I told her I don't know, but I think I do know. I have this feeling...I think that you'll make it, dad. I think you'll wake up. I really do. I just wonder when that'll be. I hope it's sooner rather than later. I don't like waiting and wondering...But I'm really worried. When you do wake up, it'll all be different. You'll need a lot of help. You've gotta learn to walk again, you've gotta learn to do everything all over again. I'm not really worried about that. I'm...I'm worried that you won't remember me or...Or any of us. I'm worried you won't remember Judith or Michonne or...Or mom...Maybe you wouldn't wanna remember her or—Shane? Probably not. But you have to remember them. They're apart of you too. And Daryl, your best friend. Will you remember him? Will you remember my friends? My best friends, Enid and Beth. You used to love them! Especially Beth because she's Maggie's sister. Remember Maggie? And Glenn? They were your friends too. They **are** your friends too. Remember Carol? You've gotta remember her. She's the only woman who could manage to get close to Daryl, the only one that could handle him. She seems so nice all the time but she's tough...Maybe even tougher than you! That's saying something. Remember Hershel? Remember...Remember that weird neighbor we had? Eugene? He and his friend Abraham? They used to fight all the time and you always had to go over to their house and break it up. Wasn't funny at the time but it is now..." Carl chuckled before growing quiet for a moment.

"Those people—They're your family. Our family. They haven't forgotten about you, dad. They still visit sometimes. Especially Carol and Daryl, and Maggie and Glenn. I hope you haven't forgotten about them...I know I say the same things every time. I know that if you can hear me you must be sick and tired of me by now. I just...I don't want you to forget. Nothing will be normal if...When you wake up. You'll be different and so will I. Everyone's changed. The one thing that won't be different...Is the memories that we have. The memories are the only things we have left from our old lives...You gotta remember those."

Carl grew silent again as he stared at Rick, breathing steadily and looking peaceful. At least he wasn't in pain, Carl guessed.

His cell phone rang, making him jump before he pulled it out and hurriedly answered it. "Hello?" He mumbled.

"Carl listen about yesterday...I think we should talk. Where are you right now?"

Of course, it was Negan. Carl rolled his eyes. He was still pissed off and he didn't feel like talking to Negan just yet. "I'm at the hospital."

"Are you alright?!"

"Don't know if you've been listening to anything I've said over the past few months, but my dad is in a coma. I'm visiting him." Carl knew that his attitude was probably uncalled for, but he couldn't help it. Negan had treated him like a child yesterday instead of an equal...He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn't Negan's equal. He was Negan's employee, and that was depressing but it was a fact. A fact that he'd have to accept...

Or not.

"Sorry, I know, I just—When you leave will you come by? I really do wanna talk to you and set things straight."

The pleading tone in Negan's voice made Carl let out a defeated sigh. He'd planned on ditching Negan today just to piss him off, but he was interested in whatever it was that Negan had to say, so, that wouldn't be happening.

"Sure, Negan. I've been here for a while, so, I'll be there in like thirty minutes."

When they said their goodbyes, Carl hung up and looked at his dad again, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, Negan...That's a new name for you. Don't panic, you don't know him. He's um...He's a friend of mine. Or, well, he's more than a friend! He's more of a...He's..." Carl sighed and shut his eyes. "I'm just gonna say it, dad, he's my sugar daddy."

No response. For once, Carl was happy about that.

"Now listen, before you start yelling inside your head, I'd like to explain our relationship a little bit...He's a lot older than me, but I...You're gonna think it's stupid. If you were, you know, awake, I'd be in a lot of trouble right about now. You wouldn't approve...He's a little older than you—But Listen, though! He's hot! Really, really hot! And he's nice...Every now and then. Look, you have to get to know him in order to really appreciate him and his ways, but the problem is, he makes it really hard to get to know him. But I have. A little. And in my opinion, he's great. He can be a douchebag, but he means well. He's been through a lot and he's gotten through it. He's a successful businessman now and that's impressive considering the kind of background he comes from. I think...I think that if you met him, you'd hate him, **but** you'd respect him after a while...I'm gonna say something I haven't said to anyone, okay? Dad, I...I love him. A lot. I want us to be together, you know? This isn't like anything I've ever felt before. It isn't just a crush, it isn't just a weird infatuation, it isn't just lust. I don't know, there's something about this guy that makes me want to be with him forever. He's great. I love him...Problem is, I know for a fact he doesn't love me back. He doesn't know how I feel about him, and he **won't**." Carl finished sternly as he narrowed his eyes at his dad.

"You tell him and I'll put you in an old folks home the second you turn fifty." Carl smirked. "Yeah...You're right. I won't have to worry about you saying anything."

He stood up slowly and leaned over to give Rick a kiss on the cheek before saying goodbye to him and exiting the room. He figured he should get to Negan quickly so they could have their talk.

Hopefully, it wouldn't go terribly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Negan talk.

The second Carl stepped foot in the house, an uneasy feeling swept over him.

Negan had opened the door, blank-faced and serious, and that wasn't like him at all. He didn't say a word—Also not like him—Just gestured for Carl to come in. They walked in silence to the kitchen and took a seat at the kitchen table, facing one another. Negan didn't speak for a good few minutes, and Carl didn't either. He didn't know what he should say and he didn't wanna piss Negan off...More. So he waited.

Negan cleared his throat after a while, his eyes drifting up to catch Carl's for the first time since they'd sat down.

"I've been thinking a lot." He started with a sigh, leaning forward in his chair. "Me and you, we're good together. We work. We're like...A match and a candle?" Negan had never been good with euphemisms.

Carl watched him closely, eyed wide as saucers. He'd expected yelling or crude comments or something more...Negan-like, and instead he was getting what sounded like the beginning of an apology and maybe even the start of a new type of relationship...The kind that he actually wanted. His heart fluttered.

"We're good together, kid." Negan repeated, eyes softening. Carl nodded. Negan continued. "I enjoy having you around. Your company, it's good. I don't want anyone else's."

Carl nodded again, quickly, trying to ignore the sound of his heart beating wildly so that he could focus fully on Negan and what he was saying, waiting for him to just get to the point. He did.

"That's why we need to work on this little agreement. We need to establish a few more rules, we need to...Be more clear with each other about how things need to go. You've been pretty good to me, Grimes, but this entire thing has just been too...loose. When we first decided to start this thing up we talked a little about it, but we didn't...I don't think I explained as much as I should've—"

"What are you talking about Negan?"

Carl's heart was pounding quicker, louder, for a different reason than it was a few moments ago.

"Carl, you can have your own life. You can do your own thing, you can do what you want. You're basically grown now, and I know that you wanna have that freedom. I know you wanna just get out and go when you want to sometimes. I get that. I'm fifty fucking years old and I can still relate to that feeling. I don't want you to feel trapped. I don't want you to feel like I'm bossing you around too much."

Carl nodded slowly to show he understood, although he didn't. Negan continued.

"But you need to understand, Carl. I **am** the boss."

Carl knew for sure now that this conversation wasn't the one he wanted to be having. Wouldn't go the way he'd wanted it to.

"I'm paying you a lot of fucking money, Carl. A lot. I'm helping you out a shit ton and you know I am." Carl narrowed his eyes at Negan, and Negan hurriedly raised his hands in defense. "I'm glad I can help. I don't mind giving you the money! You have to earn it, though."

"You sayin' I don't?"

"No. I'm just saying...Like when you went out with Ron the other night...You weren't here with me and that's—I don't pay you to be with Ron—"

"So you don't want me to go on any more dates with him or anyone else, is that what this is?" Carl probably would've been fine with that, honestly. The only guy he really wanted to date was sitting right the fuck across from him, but he didn't let Negan catch on to that. He couldn't.

"You can just—" Negan shook his head and let out a breath. "Look, to put it simply, Carl, you will get paid for what you do. I'm not gonna pay you the same amount of money I've been paying if you're not gonna spend the time with me—"

"I go on one date with one boy and you do this, Negan? Really? You don't think this is a little...Extra? Unnecessary?"

"Carl." Negan gritted out. "This isn't just about the fucking date. This is about us working on a better deal. It's gonna be different. You can spend as much time with me as you want, or as least as you want. You go a whole month without seeing me? Fine. But don't expect to get paid the same, that's all I'm sayin'. How it should've been from the very beginning. I think that's fair." Negan shrugged. "More professional even." He grinned.

Carl nodded, biting his lip harshly. Negan was right, it was fair. He was still pissed, though. In Negan's eyes, this conversation had gone well. It was simple, really. He was just telling Carl that he'd have to earn his pay, and that was pretty fucking fair. Negan had been pretty lenient with him, paying him much more than he'd actually been earning just because he knew he needed it, but that wasn't really fair to him.

Carl was only mad because this was still just business to Negan. This thing they had, it was just...It wasn't an actual relationship. It was a business deal.

Carl figured it was his own fault. Negan had told him from the start not to fall in love and he went and did it anyway. That wasn't Negan's fault it was Carl's, and Carl couldn't force the man to love him back.

Who knows, though. Maybe Carl didn't really love the man. Maybe he just had a humongous crush. Maybe he was just clinging to it. Maybe he just needed to start focusing on someone other than Negan and this would all go away.

"Okay, Negan. Well, listen, I get it. This **is** fair. I'm not gonna bitch you out if I get paid less than usual because I know it'll be on me...That being said, I'm already gonna have to put in for an off day." Carl joked, trying to ignore the sadness creeping up his spine. "I wanna go to a party with some friends. Catch up with them, you know?"

Negan frowned and gave Carl a look. He didn't want the boy going to some wild college party. He knew it really wasn't any of his business, but he knew how those parties could get. He'd been to a lot of parties himself and nothing good ever came out of them.

"When?"

"It's not official yet, but it'd be on a Saturday no doubt." Carl shrugged. Negan nodded. "Carl I'm—I'm not gonna tell you that you can't go, but I really, really don't want you to." He sighed. "It's your decision, though. If you do go just try not to get into too much trouble, okay?"

"Sure." Carl nodded. "And you know, I visit my dad as often as I can, so—"

Negan shook his head and held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. That's the only exception. I'll still pay you. That's family time."

"You don't have to—"

"It's okay." Negan cut him off.

Carl nodded slowly. "Okay."

***

Carl and Negan decided that lounging around on the living room couch, catching up on their favorite shows was the best way to spend the day. Carl knew he had more studying that needed to be done, but if he had to stare at one more half-finished essay of his or one more textbook today, he was going to lose his fucking mind. So, he pretended that there was nothing left for him to study or do and made himself comfortable on the couch, sitting between Negan's legs and resting his head on the man's chest.

They sat like that for half the day, barely talking and just enjoying each other's company. At some point, though, Negan had started getting handsy, and Carl smirked as he thought about what they were bound to get up to before the night was over.

"You touching me while we're watching children fight a fucking Demogorgon is not cool, you know?" He muttered after a while. Negan didn't say anything, just reached over to grab the remote and turn off the TV. "Better?" Negan questioned before rubbing Carl through his pants. Carl tried to find his words and say something snarky, but Negan's tongue on his neck was distracting him.

"I was—It was just getting interesting." Carl breathed as he lifted himself up and turned around to face Negan. Negan smirked as he placed his large hands on Carl's face, dragging him forward for a long kiss. Carl melted into the kiss almost immediately. Negan always tasted like mint and cigarettes and it was an odd combination, but damn if it didn't taste fucking good. "We can get back to watching the show if that's what you want?" Negan teased.

Carl rolled his eyes as he pulled away and stood up. "Shut the hell up and get upstairs."

"Yes ma'am." Negan smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Y'all I am so sorry, this chapter ain't shit. I wanted it to be longer and better, I thought it'd be more climatic with more tension and shit but I'm so damn sick and I had writer's block. Couldn't get the right words on the page to save my soul! Next chapter is better, I'm hoping! Also, I promise this book will have a lot more smut soon, I just couldn't write it in this chapter for some reason!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl goes to a party and gets a disturbing phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's literally no excuse for me not updating this story for two months. I'm a dumb ho. I ain't shit. We know this.

Two weeks later, Saturday night, Carl had gotten dressed in an all black outfit and a leather jacket, ignoring Negan's teasing about how he was trying to steal his style, and also ignoring his pleas for him to just stay home, and hightailed it out of Negan's house after kissing the man goodbye, jumping into Beth's truck. She'd agreed, if not demanded, to give him a ride to the party. The second he shut the door she was speeding off, already talking faster than she was driving.

"I am so happy you decided to come tonight, it's gonna be so fun! Nick and Chris can't wait to see you and Tara and Rosita are ecstatic too! They wouldn't shut up about how excited they are to see you again, and I'm tellin' you right now, you're gonna be smothered in hugs as soon as they catch sight of you! Sophia is gonna be there too, of course, and listen, I know y'all had a thing—" Carl groaned loudly and rolled his eyes as Beth spoke over him. "But it's gonna be fine! She's excited to see you too! Although, I mean, of course, she is! She **did** have a humongous crush on you."

"There was no **thing** , Beth." Exasperation took over his tone as he glanced out the window, letting his arm hang out of it. "We never dated, never talked—"

"You're right. She just, you know, was completely in love with you and you always blew her off—"

Carl glared at her and huffed. "It's not my fault I didn't like her, Beth. She was nice but she was just...She was my friend. Nothing more...She doesn't still like me does she?" He cringed.

Beth smirks a little and lets out a content sigh. "Nope. She's now officially moved on from the asshole guy who broke her heart in high school and is currently with...Guess who."

"I don't know." Carl shrugged. "Who?"

"Starts with an 'L' and ends with an 'ydia." Beth grinned. Carl's eyes grew wider. "No fucking way, Beth, are you shitting me?" Beth shook her head and Carl threw his head in his hands. "Is Lydia gonna be there?"

"Yep."

Beth was all too smug as Carl kept his head in his hands. He did not want to see her, but he wouldn't let it ruin his night. Maybe she wouldn't be too terrible. Maybe she'd changed since the last time they'd seen each other, or at the very least, wouldn't be hellbent on bitching at him. She's with Sophia now anyway, so maybe she'll be cool!

***

"I see you've still got the long, dingy hair," Lydia smirked. "I always thought it was just a high school phase. Figured you'd come to your senses and cut that shit off when you went to college, but I guess not."

She was not cool.

"It's **great** to see you too, Lydia," Carl muttered, sending her a forced smile. "Speaking of high school, we're not in it anymore, so you don't have to spend all your time acting like a petty, whiny, childish little brat with nothing better to do than insult me and every other guy who didn't wanna date some vindictive little lunatic like yourself! Just BTW." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, about to retaliate before she was cut off by Sophia coming to stand next to her. "Hey, Carl!" She greeted politely. "Nice to see you again! You still look great!"

Carl smiled as he watched Lydia glare at the side of Sophia's head, though Sophia paid it no attention. "Thanks, Soph. You look really good too!"

As much as he didn't want it to be awkward, it was. He and Sophia hadn't seen each other in a long time and they'd drifted apart easily after high school, mostly because Carl spent a lot of his time avoiding her, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but also not feeling the same way she felt about him. She'd developed a crush on him and he didn't know how to respond to it, so he didn't. He just ran.

He regretted handling the situation with so much immaturity. Sophia had always been so sweet and fun to be around and they'd been pretty good friends for a long time before all that happened. He hated that they didn't talk much anymore and he wanted to change that.

"We should hang out soon, just the two of us." He suggested, trying to hold in a satisfied chuckle as Lydia shifted awkwardly and cleared her throat. "We have some catching up to do! I miss my best friend."

"You wouldn't have to miss her if you weren't a childish asshole--"

"Lydia," Sophia elbowed her in the side to get her to stop talking. "Look, things didn't go down well between us, but I'm over it now. I've got Lydia and I'm sure you're way over it too." She smiled. "We can put it behind us. I'll give you my new phone number before the nights over, okay?"

Carl nodded and she smiled, grabbing Lydia's hand and pulling her away. "Nice seeing you again, Carl!" She called as they stalked off.

Carl felt relieved as he walked off in the opposite direction. He didn't have to worry about bumping into Lydia or having an awkward encounter with Sophia tonight, he'd already done that and now things were settled. Now all there was to do was have fun!

***

Carl looked around slowly, rolling his eyes as he realized that literally everyone around him was busy making out with each other. Enid and Chris were on the couch across from him making out like their lives depended on it, Beth and Nick were on the floor, Tara and Rosita, who had supposedly missed him **so** much, yet only gave him a few hugs before going back to tongue fucking, were on the floor right in front of him. People he didn't know were going at it nearby too. He was the only one without somebody to swap spit with.

How it turned into a makeout party, he didn't know, but what he did know was that he needed to get away from all the lovey Dovey bullshit happening here, and fast.

He got up and quickly maneuvered his way around people, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally got through the crowd. He made his way upstairs quickly, hoping to get away from the mass amount of people downstairs, and he was relieved to see the hallway empty when he got there.

Bored and curious, he slowly peeked his head into a few rooms, seeing what they were and praying every time that no one was in them. It was clear for the most part, but the last room he entered had a person inside. He was glad to see that it was only Ron.

"Hey," he nodded, slowly closing the door as he walked farther into the room. He'd been wondering where Ron had been. He figured he'd just decided to do something else. As much as he hated to admit it, he was really looking forward to seeing him tonight.

Ron smiled and nodded at Carl, patting the spot beside him on the bed. Carl took the hint and went to sit down next to him, playfully punching his shoulder after he did. "What are you doing up here? The party is down there, you know?"

"I just wanted to be alone for a while," he shrugged, sending Carl a bashful grin. "I don't have many friends and continuously making a fool of myself as I tried to talk to strangers was growing old pretty quickly."

Carl frowned and nodded, shifting uncomfortably. Just a short time ago he himself had been judging Ron for being what he'd deemed a 'total creep' and avoiding him like the plague. Now that he'd gotten to know him a little better, he felt guilty for the way he'd been acting towards the boy, whether Ron knew he was acting that way or not.

It's not like he and Ron were best friends now; they'd only been on one date after all, but already Carl could see what a great guy Ron was. If people made just a tiny bit of effort to get to know him better they'd see that he wasn't all that bad.

"What about you? Why're you up here?" Ron questioned. Carl rolled his eyes. "Everybody downstairs is busy working toward having a humongous orgy. I'm afraid if I'd stuck around I would've just ended up being the equivalent of the creepy guy in the corner with his hands down his pants while said orgy's taking place."

Ron let out a loud snort before getting quiet again. The two of them sat on the bed, not uttering a word for several moments, each trying to figure out something to say. Carl could only really think of one thing, but he didn't wanna voice his thoughts, not knowing how Ron would take it. Instead of flat out saying what he wanted to say, he opted for asking Ron a question.

"When did you first notice me?"

"What?" Ron blinked slowly as he glanced at Carl and then back at the ground.

"When did you first notice me? On our date, you told me you were always too nervous to talk to me. When was the first time you actually noticed me?"

"Oh..." Ron blushed. "You're always in the college library. So am I." He shrugged. "A few months ago I noticed you in there, on the floor reading a huge ass book."

"Oh," Carl nodded. "Well..."

"It took Beth a long time to get you to agree to a date." Ron sighed. "That's why I didn't ask you myself. I knew you'd say no and I didn't want...I really like you so I just couldn't—But I thought if she asked you and you said no at least I could pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm sorry," Carl frowned. "If I would've known how cool you are I would've agreed in a second! I just thought you were..."

"Fucking weird?" Ron quizzed knowingly, letting out a small laugh. Carl's cheeks reddened at Ron's knowing stare. "It's alright. I am kinda weird. I'm really bad at talking to people. They usually end up thinking I'm insane."

"Sorry," Carl mumbled. "How about to make it up to you, we go visit the old arcade downtown one day? Maybe we could save the trip for a day when we're both procrastinating whatever important work we need to do in order to actually pass our classes?" He smirked.

"Sounds great to me! Fair warning, you won't be able to beat me at a single game we play."

"Talk is cheap, Ron."

***  
"Rosita? You realize your mouth isn't attached to Tara's now, right? It's just weird to see you without her face glued to yours." Carl teased as he approached a flustered looking Rosita. She bumped her hip against his and then shook her head. "You're just jealous because you don't have anyone to tongue fuck tonight. Don't worry, though. Someday somebody will actually be attracted to your ugly mug." She grinned. "That's already true if what I heard from Beth is correct—"

"Nothing you hear from Beth is ever correct," Carl chuckled. "She set me up on a date with a guy and it went pretty well, but we're not exactly the new IT couple in town."

"Of course you're not. That's still me and T."

"Speaking of the better part of your relationship, where exactly is she? I didn't come here just to be forced to associate with you."

"Last I saw her she was by the food table filling her bag with food she'd shoved into the ziplock bags she brought." Rosita rolled her eyes. "She acts like she's never eaten pigs in a blanket before. We have hot dogs every Sunday and she's still so amazed by pigs in a blanket just because they have a different name—"

"Those **are** two entirely different things, Mrs. Espinosa."

"Right, like rice crispy treats and rice crispy cereal."

"Exactly," Carl nodded shortly. "Listen I'm gonna head out soon. I don't wanna be out too late. I'm an old man at heart, we all know this, so, tell Tara I said goodbye and we should make plans to hang out soon because I miss her. And make sure to tell her not to let her annoying, bigheaded girlfriend tag along."

Carl pulled Rosita into a short squeeze before moving away from her to avoid getting punched. They waved their goodbyes and Carl made his rounds, saying goodbye to all his friends and promising to spend time with them all sometime soon before he found Beth who was saying her goodbyes as well.

The ride back to Negan's was fairly peaceful, Carl and Beth both too tired from socializing to really talk to each other. When they pulled into Negan's driveway, Carl hopped out and told her goodbye before walking toward the front door. He was thankful she hadn't questioned why he was staying in such a nice house that he quite obviously couldn't afford, especially since he didn't have a 'job' at the moment. Maybe it just hadn't occurred to her or maybe she'd assumed it was a friend's house. Either way, he was thankful.

Negan swung the door open before he could even think about opening it himself, smiling largely in a way that made Carl uneasy. It wasn't his usual wolfish grin it was more of a...'I did something bad and I don't want you to be mad at me for it' smile.

"What the hell did you do?" Carl questioned as he cautiously stepped inside the cozy house. The harsh smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he turned toward the kitchen before looking back at Negan and narrowing his eyes.

"I decided that while you were out I'd have some fun of my own. I decided to make homemade pizza—"

"Negan—"

"Now listen, I was actually doing a damn good job before I got distracted! It wasn't really my fault, it's just that around the time the pizza was supposed to come out of the oven, Eleven figured out that she was actually Jane and—"

"Negan—"

"We already knew she was probably Jane, but she didn't and I had to see how she'd deal with that and I know I wasn't supposed to watch without you, but—"

Carl huffed before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Negan's waist. Negan let out a small laugh as he tucked Carl's hair behind his ear and cupped his jaw, tilting his face upward. "I promise not to cook without you ever again."

"You said that last time."

"I mean it this time."

"You said that last time too."

Negan didn't reply, not having any further arguments, and instead decided to lean down and plant a soft kiss on the young boy's lips. What was meant to be a short and sweet kiss ended up being a hell of a lot longer as Carl pushed himself into Negan and reached down to cup him over his pants.

Carl ran his other hand under Negan's shirt and scratched his nail's down Negan's lean stomach before hooking a finger in the man's pants. Negan slowly migrated them toward the couch. He broke the kiss for only a moment to sit down and pull Carl onto his lap before they were back at it again.

Carl grinded down on Negan's lap, panting as Negan's lips found their way to his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along it. Carl could barely think with Negan's scent filling his nostrils, his hands holding onto his waist possessively, and his mouth attacking his neck hungrily, and talking was even harder, but after a moment he managed to form a sentence.

"I need you to fuck me," He mumbled. "I need it."

"Yeah? You wanna ride me, baby?"

Carl shook his head quickly. "I want you to be in control. I want you to fuck me." He repeated. Negan didn't need to be told twice.

He quickly switched their positions so that Carl was lying on the couch and he was hovering over the pale boy. He made quick work of stripping them both down, peppering kisses down Carl's body as he did.

They were so fucking close, **so** fucking close to getting to the good part when Carl's phone began to ring. Carl wanted to ignore it, but he knew that it was late and there was only one person who ever called him this late.

"S-Sorry, I need to get that," Carl mumbled as he gently pushed Negan away from him. Negan sighed but nodded, moving off of Carl to sit on the couch. Carl reached blindly for his phone and took a deep breath before answering.

"Judy?"

"Not Judy, but I am calling about her."

Carl's brows shot up in confusion. Michonne was calling about Judith now of all times? It was nearly 1 AM. "Is she okay? What happened?!" He questioned, sitting up quickly.

"She's fine! She's...Well, she's not fine but she's alright? I know it's late and I'm sorry for calling now instead of earlier I just--I don't know what to do," Michonne breathed out a nervous chuckle. Carl could tell she was far more stressed than she was letting on, and he felt guilty that he wasn't there to help her. "Judith isn't talking to anyone, she's not responding to anyone, she just wants to be by herself right now. I tried to get her to go to school and she threw the biggest fit I've ever seen a child throw. Getting her out of her room is difficult as hell, she won't even come out to use the restroom. I've tried to get her to eat, but she won't! I've had to get her to eat Helen Keller style for the last few days. Whenever someone tries to talk to her she just ignores them, and I don't even--I just--She's done this before, so, I just figured that she'd be back to normal sometime soon. Sometimes she just gets so upset that she completely shuts down, won't talk to anyone. It's like when we try to say something to her she doesn't even hear it, and then after a while, she snaps out of it and it's like everything is completely normal. Like nothing ever happened. I asked once if she remembered being like that and she said yes which I guess is a good sign. She's not completely blacking out...It's never gone on for this long though. A day or two at the most! It's been a week and a half now and I'm worried."

 

Michonne cut herself off by letting out a deep sigh. Carl rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand as he pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and let out a small sigh of his own. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Mich?" He questioned softly, not wanting to upset her.

"I didn't want to stress you out. I didn't want you to feel like you had one more thing to deal with. I know you've got enough on your plate, and It's my job to take care of Judith anyway--"

"Michonne, she's my sister. I don't care whats on my plate, she's my family and she comes first. It's not just your job. It's my job too. I have to take care of her too, and you! Listen I don't have any classes tomorrow, so I'll come down there then, okay?"

"Are you sure, Carl?"

"I'm sure. I'll see you two soon. Try not to worry too much. I'm sure she's gonna be okay."

When they said their final goodbyes, Carl hung up the phone and leaned back on the couch. Negan stared at him, worry written all over his face as he waited for an explanation for the bizarre phone call. "Judith isn't herself right now. She isn't talking to anyone, she doesn't do anything except stare at the walls, she freaked out when Michonne tried to get her to go to school...It's been like that for a week and apparently, this isn't the first time this has happened." Carl explained.

"Damn...That sounds pretty serious." Negan muttered.

"Yeah, it does...I had no idea this was going on. Michonne didn't want me to stress about it so she didn't tell me, but I wish she would've. Maybe I could've helped Judith somehow."

"I don't think you can help her with this, Carl. It sounds like she needs...You know, professional help."

"She's not crazy!" Carl defended quickly. Negan held his hands up in defense. "I didn't say she was! It's just, this obviously isn't normal and it sounds like a pretty big deal to me."

"You're right," Carl muttered, nodding slowly. "She needs to go to therapy or see a counselor or...Something." He slumped down on the couch, even more, feeling powerless. His little sister was a few miles away, completely shutting down, and he wasn't there to comfort her or help her at all, and even if he was he wouldn't know how.

"Hey, like you said, I'm sure it'll be fine. You're gonna go visit her tomorrow and then you can go from there. Right now, just being near her big brother is probably going to help a whole lot." Negan comforted. Carl nodded and let out a small breath. "I'm sorry, Negan. I wish I could spend the day with you, but—"

"Don't stress. This is an emergency and your little sister needs you more than I do right now. You can make it up to me somehow on another day," he winks before patting Carl's leg. "Been a long night. I know you're tired so let's go on up to bed."

"Sounds good to me," Carl smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl goes to visit Michonne and Judith

Michonne could be hard to read sometimes, and she wasn't a bad liar nor a bad actress, but she wasn't fooling anybody, especially not Carl.

The second he stepped into the house he noticed just how tired she looked. She looked worn out and stressed and sad and like she was close to breaking and it killed him to see her that way. He thought it was his fault. She shouldn't have gotten to this point. She wouldn't have if he'd been around to keep an eye on her, to make sure that she was coping okay, to make sure she wasn't at her wit's end trying to see about Judith and keep going without her husband.

He and Michonne were close, always had been and always would be, but he hadn't been checking on her as much as he should, often opting to text her instead of calling, rarely taking the thirty-minute drive to see her. He'd been distancing himself from her, not because he necessarily wanted to, but because he felt unbelievably guilty every time he looked into her eyes.

Guilty because he wasn't able to help her. Guilty because he knew she was in pain, he knew she was suffering from heartbreak and there was nothing he could do to help make her feel better. He was guilty because he knew that losing Rick was killing her, and he couldn't make his dad wake up which was the only thing that'd help. He was guilty because he was lying to her everytime he said anything to her. Lying to her about how he was making his money, lying to her about who he was spending his time with these days, lying to her about his grades, lying to her about where he was living, lying to her everytime he told her he knew it'd all turn out okay because he fucking didn't know that.

He and Michonne used to tell each other everything. They used to tell each other about how their days went, they used to sit and laugh together for hours at a time and some days, some really bad days, they'd sit and they'd cry together as well. Michonne used to know everything about him and now...She didn't know shit. She didn't know the half.

He knew she could feel it to. She could feel that their relationship wasn't the same. They were still close, they were still family, but it just wasn't the same. Another loss. Another lost cause. Possibly like Rick.

He wished he could sit her down and tell her everything. He wanted to tell her every god damn detail about the life he was currently living, the one she had absolutely no idea about. He wanted to tell her about the fact that he'd been stripping just to make quick cash some months ago. He wanted to tell her that now he had a whole fucking sugar daddy. He wanted to tell her that he felt so fucking lost and alone and like he could snap at any moment. He couldn't tell her any of that.

It's not that he thought she'd judge him, which hell, she might, and he wouldn't blame her one bit if she did. It was that he just...He couldn't. He was disappointed in himself and what he'd become and she would be too no matter how badly she'd try to hide it. He used to be so good. He used to do some things right. He used to be a good person. He's not anymore.

He's a shit person living a shit life surrounded by shit people who just add on to the pile of shit he's already having to swallow. Nothing's real anymore. Not his so-called relationships, not his smiles, not his sanity. He's just barely clinging to that, clinging to a thin ass thread that's soon to break.

He's doing everything wrong, he's fucking everything up and he's doing it in the name of his dad. He claims he's doing it all for Rick, but is he? Is he doing anything for Rick anymore? Is he shacking up with a guy twice his age for Rick? Is he damn near failing his classes for Rick? Is he failing to be there for Michonne and Judith for Rick?

He'd give everything to be in his dad's position right now. Why wasn't he the one that'd been shot and put in a coma? Why was he still conscious right now? Why was he still able to go out and about and live life when his dad wasn't? He didn't deserve it. He was just screwing shit up.

It should've been him.

Rick--He was a good man and he knew right from wrong and he--He was a hero. He deserved to be here, right now, handling what Carl couldn't handle. Carl, he's a coward. He can't do anything right, he's making the worst decisions of his life, he's just...At this point, he's a waste of space. Rick actually had something to contribute to society.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Michonne," Carl's voice is barely there as he closes his eyes, suddenly feeling dizzy. He'd driven all the way here to help comfort Michonne, take some weight off her shoulders and hopefully get Judith back on track, a few simple enough tasks, yet here he was, fucking crying like a baby. He was supposed to be helping, not adding to Michonne's stress.

"Carl--Hey, come on, sit down," Michonne mumbled softly, gripping Carl's hand tightly and moving toward the couch. "It's nothing to worry about, Carl, I promise things will turn out okay." Michonne made it sound convincing and yet Carl was nowhere near convinced. "Something tells me you aren't crying over Judith."

"I know I'm here for her. I know I'm supposed to--" He cut himself off by choking on a sob. Michonne rubbed his back soothingly as he laid his head on her chest. "I don't know what to do. Everything is wrong. I can't do anything. What am I here for, Michonne? I can't do anything." Michonne didn't like the fact that the words seemed to mean more than Carl was letting on. "I'm supposed to be a man. I'm supposed to be strong and brave and I'm supposed to know what to do, but I'm not and I don't. I don't have a clue. My sister's hurting and I'm crying like a baby instead of helping her. You're hurting and I've just...I've just completely shut you out. I left you when you needed me most and I--I'm a mess. My dad--If he was here, you know what he'd do?"

"What would he do?"

"I have no idea because I'm not him," Carl laughed bitterly. "He'd do something that'd help the situation instead of making it worse, I can tell you that. He'd be useful. Me--I'm just--"

"Hurting. You're just hurting too, just like us. That's fine." Michonne cut in. "Your dad would be proud of you if he could see you right now."

"I've got snot rolling down my chin, Michonne."

Michonne giggled and shook her head, sniffling as she continued stroking his back. "You've been so strong this entire time, Carl. You've dealt with this probably better than any of us have, and you've tried so hard to help us cope somehow."

"Please," He scoffed. "I live thirty minutes away and I--"

"And you drive down here as soon as you can every time we need you."

"It shouldn't just be when you need me."

"Yeah, maybe not. So, change that. I always love to see you and Judy does too. You're welcome anytime. But we understand that you're busy with college and friends and living your life, as you should be."

Carl shrugged half-heartedly.

"You're doing a good job, Carl. With everything. With college, with being a good son, a good brother, a good friend and a good person in general."

"Michonne...I'm not—I haven't told you a lot."

"I know."

"I don't wanna tell you everything that's happening with me right now."

"You telling me that things are happening with you right now is enough. You don't have to tell me every little detail, Carl. I understand. You're not a kid anymore. You can't tell me everything."

"I want to...But I don't. You wouldn't be proud of me if you knew everything. You wouldn't look at me the same."

"When I was your age I did a lot of things I wasn't proud of. I turned into an entirely different person, or so I thought. I thought I lost myself. I didn't. I was just...Finding myself. It's difficult to do that--but everyone has to. I still regret some of the choices I made back then even to this day. Some of those choices shaped me into who I am now, though, and I wouldn't redo a damn thing...Life is hard, Carl, but you've been hardened too. You're not behind bars, I don't think you're on drugs and you're still alive. Right now, you're winning. Right now you're playing your cards right. Wipe your tears and give yourself a pat on the back. You deserve it."

Carl was crying again by the end of her speech, not knowing at all how to respond, not knowing how to thank her for being her. If he turned out to be half the person she was he'd be forever grateful. Somehow she'd managed to make him think that maybe he wasn't as shit of a person as he'd thought he was, and she did it in a matter of minutes. Being around Michonne was always therapeutic for him.

"Alright," He cleared his throat and dried his tears before sitting up straight. "Your turn."

"What?"

"I came here to comfort you, not the other way around. I've had a good cry, it's your turn now. Do your best ugly cry and I'll give my best speech." He half-joked. She smiled tiredly at him and ruffled his hair. "Thanks for the offer but nobody gets to see my ugly cry except for me. Besides, I'd rather you save your speech for Judith," She frowned again as she looked in the direction her room was in. "I don't know what's triggering her and making her act like this. It just happens out of nowhere, it seems like. I wanna take her to a doctor, I know I should have a long time ago. The second Rick was put in the hospital I should've found someone for her to talk to. I just..."

She drifted off, looking down at her hands. Carl grabbed one of them and gave it a firm squeeze. "You've done everything you can do for her. You love her and you care about her and that's what's gonna get her through all this."

"Loving and caring aren't enough sometimes."

"Maybe not, but it does help...I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her."

He patted her hand before standing up and walking toward where he knew her room was.

He knocked quietly before slowly opening the door and walking inside, closing it behind him. He noticed her sitting on the edge of her bed, swinging her feet back and forth and staring ahead blankly. He took a deep breath before striding toward her.

He had a few doubts, not sure if he'd be able to do anything or say anything to help her. Michonne hadn't been able to snap her out of it and she was the best at talking to people. He wasn't so great with words so what could he do? Still, he'd try.

He squatted down in front of her and grabbed her small hand, willing her to acknowledge him in any way, but she didn't. "Judy?" He mumbled softly. "I need you to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong so that I can help you. I know it's hard sometimes to talk about how you feel and I know that shutting down seems like the best option--Hell, there's no doubt that it's the easiest option, but it won't help and--"

"I killed him."

She didn't falter for a second, legs still swinging, eyes still staring blankly ahead. Carl's own eyes widened as he searched her face for any signs of joking or--or something!

"What do you mean, baby?" He questioned softly.

"I killed him."

He really fucking needed her to tell him a little more than that. The odds of her actually killing someone wasn't likely, and even if she had she wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret for so long. Sure, her murdering someone very well could be the cause of her partially blacking out every now and then because yeah, killing someone could be pretty fucking traumatizing for a twelve year old or anyone else for that matter--though it had to be a hell of a lot more traumatizing for whoever the hell was murdered--but she couldn't possibly be capable of something like that, and especially not without help. Did she have help? Who'd help a twelve-year-old kid murder someone? What kind of fucking friends was she making? Jesus, he needed to keep better tabs on her and--What the fucking hell was he even entertaining this for? She didn't kill anybody.

He didn't wanna tell her she was just confused because that might make her angry and even if it didn't, it wouldn't get him anywhere. The next thing he thought to say was 'Well, that's not good, Jud', but that was a pretty dumb thing to say, even for him.

"Who?" That was the best thing he could think to say.

"I killed him."

He had to be patient with her, he knew that. He wouldn't get anywhere with her if he wasn't patient--but god damn if he didn't wanna shake her and ask who the hell she'd supposedly murdered.

Judith had always been interested in scary movies and serial killer documentaries. What if this was just her way of dealing with everything? What if it was her way of escaping reality? What if she'd just...Put herself into a character she'd seen on screen before's situation? Was she just acting? God he fucking hoped that was the case.

"I need you to tell me who or I can't help you."

Help her? How was he gonna help her? He was not going to cover for his sister if she committed a homicide and that's that. Point blank period. He wouldn't do it. She'd just have to go to jail. He'd visit her, if that makes it any better.

Fucking Christ, she didn't really murder anyone, he was getting all worked up over absolutely nothing.

Did she? Was he?

"I killed...Daddy."

Her eyes watered up but she didn't move an inch. Carl was confused as hell now, slightly relieved that she hadn't killed anyone else, and she certainly couldn't have killed their dad because he was safe in the hospital.

"Why do you think that, Jud?"

"I killed him. I killed daddy."

It was more words than Michonne had gotten, but it still wasn't enough for him. He needed more and soon.

"Judith. Why do you think that? Why do you think you killed daddy?"

She paused for a few moments, eyes slowly starting to move side to side as she blinked rapidly, starting to sniffle. "It was me, Carl." She whispered. "He's not gonna wake up and it's all because of me."

"That's not true and--"

"Yes, it is. Shane hated daddy and it was because of me. He thought that he was my dad, not daddy, and then he shot daddy and now he's in a coma and he's not gonna wake up, I know he's not." She rambled. "I killed mommy and now...It's all my fault. It's all my fault. Both of them. I killed both my parents, Carl. It's all my fault."

Carl had never felt more heartbroken in his whole entire life.

His sister, his twelve-year-old little sister, was blaming herself for the death of not just one of their parents, but two. She legitimately thought she'd killed them both, she thought that she took their lives and it was driving her insane. There was no telling how long she'd been thinking like this, how long she'd been suffering from such dark thoughts and neither he nor Michonne had any idea about it.

On top of all that, Carl wasn't entirely sure of how Judith knew about Shane.

Yeah, they told her that Lori had died during Childbirth. She knew about that.

They told her that a bad man by the name of Shane Walsh, who'd been Rick's best friend before and happened to be his partner, had shot Rick and put him in a coma. They never mentioned the affair Lori had with Shane, they never mentioned that they didn't know whether Judith was really Rick's or not, they never mentioned any of that.

How did Judith figure all that out?

Michonne wouldn't ever tell her something like that. She'd been adamant about keeping that shit locked away inside their brains and throwing away the key. Carl had never mentioned it, Rick damn for sure hadn't--Couldn't--and Lori was dead and gone so she didn't either. That left one person.

"Who...Who told you--Who--"

"Shane did."

"That's--He was sent away, Jud. H-He was sent away. To jail. He--"

"He's here." She mumbled. "And he told me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Judith spend a little time together.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really, I just don't know when I'm gonna be able to come back. I'm really sorry, but I have to--"

"Quit apologizing, kid, it's fine. Family first; Always! I have some business to take care of anyway. I'm gonna be real busy over the next few weeks."

"Business?"

"Don't sound so shocked. I'm a businessman, remember?"

"Yeah, but...I don't know, it's weird. I'm used to you being around the house."

"So am I," Negan grumbled. He paused for a moment before letting out a hum. "How long is she gonna be staying with you?"

"Michonne said she's gonna try to get to the bottom of things as quick as she possibly can. She doesn't want me stressing about taking care of Judith while I'm in school. I told her it was no big deal, but she's determined to get everything taken care of as soon as she can. Knowing her, it won't take more than a few weeks if that."

"Well, I'm gonna be in Florida for two weeks...Why don't you and Judith stay in my house? More space for you two, better neighborhood, and a pool. I'm sure the kid will enjoy the hell out of that. She could use a distraction."

"That's really nice, but if you're not in your house then there's no reason for me to be," Carl sighed, a vile taste in his mouth after saying such a thing. 

"I'll need someone to water the plants."

"You don't have plants."

"I'll buy some before I leave." 

"Negan," Carl pinched the bridge of his nose, a small smile making its way on his face. "I think you're forgetting that I'm a college student. Me living in a house as nice as yours is just plain unrealistic and she wouldn't buy that it was mine for a second. Besides, what if she breaks something valuable? Hell, what if I break something valuable?"

"Then I'll replace it. You're thinking about this too much, Grimes. You told them you have a job that pays well--"

"Yeah, but I also pay the bills for my old house--"

"If my calculations are correct, and yeah, they fucking are, you'd be able to pay for your old house and my house just fine. It's not as expensive to live in as you think it is. I cut a nice deal with the guy that was selling it."

Carl sighed again, not sure what to say. He couldn't argue with Negan and expect to win, not this time, and he really didn't feel like arguing even if he could. "What about when you get back? What if she's not gone by then? What happens then?"

"You tell her you're helping a nice homeless man out by allowing him to stay with you. You tell her you found a new roommate on Craigslist to help with the bills! I don't know, Carl, make something up. Look--I have to go. I have two weeks worth of packing to get done, I need to find my passport, I need to get to the airport, and now, since you insist on being stubborn, I need to buy plants. I have to have all that shit done in...Thirty minutes if I wanna get to the airport on time."

"I guess you can cross the plants off your list."

"Gee, thanks. I'll be out of the house at least within the next hour. Stay. Here. While I'm gone." He instructed. "I'm gonna miss you, Grimes, and you're damn for sure gonna miss me. See you in two weeks. Don't touch your dick without me."

Carl started to reply, but Negan had already hung up. Carl shook his head and let out a small laugh before slowly walking back into the house. He could hear Judith and Michonne in Judith's room, packing a few bags. Judith was miraculously back to her normal self, for now at least. Carl figured that her saying what'd been on her mind for so long had to have helped her. He wondered how she bounced back the other times this had happened. 

Either way, he was glad that she was okay right now.

"You're just gonna stand around and avoid being productive while us ladies do the hard work?" Judith questioned, peeking her head out of her room. Carl smirked at her. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Typical." She muttered.

Carl sat down at the kitchen table and glanced down at his phone.

**Spare keys under the doormat. XOXO**

Xoxo.

Carl rolled his eyes at himself and pushed his hair out of his face. At a time like this, he was still obsessing over Negan's every word. 

"I'm gonna put these in your car. Think you can at least pop the trunk for me?" Judith questioned as she waddled out of her room with an overly large backpack and two suitcases. 

"No,"

Carl stood up again and grabbed his keys, walking out to open the trunk for her. He glanced around the small neighborhood nervously, afraid that Shane might pop out of nowhere and snatch one of them up. That taste of vile was potent as he thought about the fact that the man had been out lurking around in the shadows all this time, probably watching all of them, their every move, especially Judith's. The fact that he'd been close to her, the fact that he'd talked to her--

"Quit worrying, you're gonna get permanent wrinkles. I see them forming already," Judith giggled as she ran back into the house. Carl's frown deepened. An hour ago, she'd been a whimpering mess, muttering only a few words after days of not speaking, and those words had revealed that Shane had been contacting her, telling her all about their family's fucked up past and making her blame herself for her parent's death. Now she was her usual, seemingly happy self. Carl couldn't understand it, and he knew she needed help immediately, but how was anyone gonna help with this? Where did they start with this?

Michonne had called up a well-known therapist named Olivia as soon as Carl told her what Judy was saying, and she already had an appointment scheduled, but what were they supposed to do until then?

Carl didn't wanna upset Judith again. At least for right now she was teasing him and even a little excited to be staying with him for a while--She'd missed him a whole lot more than she was willing to admit--he didn't wanna ruin her mood or say anything that'd make her go back to being quiet and in a trance-like state. But he didn't wanna brush this under the rug either. Ignoring it completely, even for just a short time, was wrong. Judith was silently suffering and he wanted to help her. But how? What was he supposed to say?

"I'm gonna miss you," Michonne sighed as she pulled Judith into her chest. Carl blinked a few times, his posture straightening as he noticed they were beside him now. He hadn't even noticed them coming out of the house. "You be good for your brother alright? Mind your manners, don't beat on him too much, and take care of him."

"We'll see how it goes," Judith, cheeky as ever, shrugged her shoulders. She leaned up to kiss Michonne's cheek and closed her eyes as she soaked in the warm embrace for a while longer. "You take care of yourself Michonne. And auntie Andrea, when she gets back from her trip." 

"I will." Michonne grinned before looking at Carl. "You get over here," She demanded as she opened her arms to welcome him into the hug. He didn't bother arguing for once. He needed it. "I love you." 

"I love you more, Carl."

The hug lasted a few seconds longer before they pulled away. Judith climbed into the backseat of the car and Michonne told them to be safe and call her every chance they got before walking back up the porch steps of the house. Carl climbed into the driver's seat and drove off slowly, hating the fact that he had to leave Michonne. He missed her, and after their talk, he realized just how much. He wished he could still see her every day. 

He hated to leave her behind in that neighborhood, the one where Shane was prowling in the shadows, slithering around like a venomous snake, waiting for his chance to strike and bite. Michonne could handle herself, no doubt, but Carl would feel better if he was there to protect her.

"Why don't we go somewhere before heading home?" Carl suggested. "It's a nice day. We could go to a park or something."

"Jesus, I think my lame brother is trying to get me to hang out with him. In public, at that." She muttered as she stared out of the window opposite of her. She looked toward him, a small smirk playing on her lips, and then shrugged a little. "Michonne doesn't let me have burgers too often, you know."

"Burgers it is, Jud."

***

"Ghosts **do** exist, Carl. There's too much proof of them existing for you to be denying that they do. This is a humongous universe. Humans can't be the only beings in it."

"I never said they don't exist. I believe in ghosts. I just don't find it believable that you saw your neighbor's ghostie dog after it died," He chuckled. "It could've been another dog--"

"That had the same exact birthmark as Arat's dog did? Sure." She rolled her eyes. 

"Dogs do not have birthmarks."

"Now you're just arguing for the sake of arguing," She whisper yelled. "You've gotta be. You can't honestly believe that dogs don't have birthmarks too."

"Getting under your skin is more fun than I remember," Carl smirked before dipping his onion ring in honey mustard and holding it out for her to take. "I'd like another bite of your burger, please."

"I told you you'd like this one better. You never listen to me." She pouted, snatching it away from him before pushing her plate towards him. "Just finish it for me, I'll take the rest of your rings."

"No, you won't." He shook his head, snatching his plate away hurriedly. "I told you to get onion rings instead of fries. You never listen to me." He whined, widening his eyes before letting out a silent chuckle.

Words couldn't describe how much he'd missed this: Arguing with his little sister over nonsense, teasing her endlessly, bragging over the fact that he was older and she was younger so whatever he said went. It was fun, and comforting to have her close to him after so long.

He always felt like he lost his sister when he lost his dad. They were both grieving, of course, and they distanced themselves from everyone--as people who're mourning usually do--Even each other. They moved into different houses in different neighborhoods across town. Life took over, making it hard for them to spend one on one time with each other often. 

Carl felt like he was missing out on a lot, and he hated it. At least for now, she was with him, though. He just hated the fact that she was with him because a maniac had been communicating with her without anyone knowing.

He pushed those thoughts away again. They kept popping into his head every few minutes, determined to ruin his mood and his quality time with his little sister, but he refused to allow that.

"Carl, guess what." Judith smiled.

"What?"

"The boy I told you about a while back--" He already dreaded the ending of that sentence. His shoulders tensed as he stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "He's my boyfriend now."

"Great." He gritted out, narrowing his eyes. "When can I meet him?"

"Ugh, you're not meeting him. You're gonna embarrass me and I can't have that. Besides, you'd scare him." 

**Good.**

"Well, you can't hide him away forever." He mumbled. "And I'm not embarrassing. I'm super cool and I have lots of friends."

"Mhm," It was a dismissive sound, one that made Carl roll his eyes and smile slightly. He remembered when he was her age, close enough to being a teenager that he began to act like one, always whining about how embarrassing his dad and Michonne could be, though they weren't all that terrible now that he really thinks about it. "Can we visit daddy soon?"

"I've got class tomorrow and you're gonna be busy working on some of the school work you've missed," He sent her a pointed look to let her know it wasn't up for discussion. "Then you've got an appointment with Olivia--"

"I don't wanna go to that. I think it's stupid. I don't need to talk to some stranger about anything going on with me. I'd rather talk to you."

Carl sighed and looked down to avoid making eye contact with her. It was nice to know that she'd rather speak to him, but he wasn't a professional and he couldn't give her the help she really needed. "Olivia isn't a stranger, she's a family friend...You can talk to me about anything at any time; You know that. But you also need to talk to someone who might have a better understanding of what's going on with you."

"Nobody is gonna understand me better than you or dad or Michonne."

"You would think," Carl chuckled slightly. "But sometimes, outsiders can help you more than your own family can. Judith, I'd never judge you for anything that you say or do, but still. Some things are just...Hard to talk about with your own family. Sometimes talking to someone you don't know all that well can really help. It's oddly comforting to spill your guts to someone besides your family. It's like...When you go on vacation. Imagine going to Japan and barfing all over your clothes in public. Sure, you'd still feel bad, but you'd take comfort in knowing that you most likely wouldn't ever see anyone who witnessed it again. If you did that here, though, it's a different story. You have to see these people pretty often."

"Right. So, my family is King County and Olivia is Japan. Better I word barf on her than on you."

"Well..." Carl paused for a moment as he twiddled his thumbs. "I--You can word barf on us too, of course. Just..." Damn, he missed his fucking dad. "You can't be in Japan every single time you barf, you know?"

"Going to Japan is, for most people, a once in a lifetime type of thing. Meaning I only need to see Olivia once." Judith smirked as she leaned back in her seat. "I can live with that, I guess."

"Some people go to Japan several times." Carl tries to save it, but he's too late. Judith has tuned him out already, stealing his onions rings and beginning to shovel them into her mouth. Carl sighs. At least she's willing to go this once. That's progress. When it's time for her to go again...They'll cross that bridge when they get there.


End file.
